Harry Potter and the Life of Another
by Frostie
Summary: Harry Potter, distressed and aggravated, looks to avenge Voldemort, but doesn't realize how important it really is until he learns about the life of another... NOTE: This is based off of my first fan fiction, Harry Potter and the Crystal of Tritium.
1. The Meeting

_Chapter 1_

_The Meeting_

Harry Potter, almost-seventeen-year-old, newest Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and most famous wizard of his generation was sick of all the attention. Every day the weight placed upon his shoulders seemed to grow heavier and heavier; the burden doubled since last year. And still, the ever-present prophecy patiently awaited its fulfillment.

"Harry, dear, please eat something," Mrs. Weasley begged him. "I haven't seen you eat in over a week."

"I'm not hungry," Harry replied, pushing away his untouched plate in the same manner he had these last few nights. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." The summer Harry would spend at Grimmauld Place, with Aurors constantly coming and going as Harry and the Weasleys held down the fort. Hermione Granger frequently apologized for not being there, as she was getting ahead on her N.E.W.T. review for the upcoming school year.

"Typical of Hermione, really," Ron Weasley told Harry when they received her letter by owl. "I'd be surprised if she doesn't take the tests and pass them with flying colors _before_ school starts up again."

To tell the truth, Harry thought he should have probably been studying as well, but that was near impossibility. He should be training as well, but ever since Tonks died last year… Harry shuddered at the memory. And the Order of the Phoenix still hadn't decided on a replacement to teach and train Harry.

The teenager fell onto his bed once he reached his room and shut the door. The very same room he and Ron had shared two years ago. _When Sirius was still alive…_ Harry couldn't help but tell himself. Tears of anger, grief, stress, and frustration flooded his eyes. Everything was in disarray. Even the Dursleys had died last summer. Harry rolled over onto his stomach, punched his pillow in frustration and broke out into new sobs. Fortunately Ron had taken the room next door so he wouldn't see Harry crying…

"Harry, mate, Dumbledore's here and wants to talk to you!" Ron called as he pounded on the door.

"OK, I'll be right there," Harry called back as he glanced at his watch; evidently he had fallen asleep. Clearly, if Dumbledore was here that could only mean one thing: the Order was going to come to a decision on Harry's trainer. Quickly, Harry rolled out of bed and ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Countless Aurors that Harry had gotten to know over the years filled the chairs in the room.

"Harry, over here if you will," Albus Dumbledore said, gesturing to the empty chair between himself and Remus Lupin, who gave Harry a small encouraging smile. Harry gladly returned it. With one glance around the room, Harry could tell that the entire Order of the Phoenix was there. He saw Professors McGonagall and Snape directly to the right of Dumbledore, the entire Weasley family (excluding Ron and Ginny) sitting by Lupin, Harry's Advance Guard from his fifth year, and many others who Harry had seen but didn't know.

"Now," came Alastor Moody's raspy voice from Harry's left, "Can we get on with the meeting, Albus?"

"Of course. As we all know, Harry here needs to complete his Auror training throughout the next year. Time is a commodity we do not possess. Due to a misfortune, Nymphadora Tonks fell at the hand of Lord Voldemort and is unable to complete her assignment at Hogwarts and working with Harry." A respectful pause filled the entire room to remember their fallen comrade. "Alastor, your report please."

Moody stood up so everyone could hear him better. "There haven't been any breakouts from Azkaban in the last two months due to an Auror guard stationed there. Reputable sources tell us that Voldemort is saving his and his followers' strength for June, the end of Harry Potter's last year at Hogwarts. More deaths will inevitably occur, but much fewer than last year. Now as Dumbledore said, Potter needs to complete his training. Otherwise he won't be ready when the face-off with Voldemort comes to pass."

"Couldn't you train him, Dumbledore?" Mr. Weasley asked. "You are the obvious choice."

"The Headmaster has more things on his mind than teaching the boy Auror tricks," Snape said maliciously. Harry gladly saw that even McGonagall gave Snape a death stare.

"I did not ask you opinion, Severus," Dumbledore said strictly as Snape sunk back into his musing state. "That is a possible solution to our problem, Arthur, but I am afraid I need to stick to my duties as headmaster of the school. I'm not as young as I used to be. In addition, we also need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"I could take up the task if need be," Lupin said quietly. He looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days and the gray in his hair just became more prominent by the day.

"Remus, Harry needs constant protection. I'm afraid you—don't meet the requirements," McGonagall said as nicely and politely as she could.

"Lupin can be the last resort then, eh?" Moody said. "I don't see anyone here who we can afford to lose from the Order—"

"But we can only trust the people in this room to hold a position so close to me," Harry interrupted.

"Yes, Harry has a point there. Anyone willing to volunteer to be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as well as Harry's trainer?" Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at the group gathered around them. A nervous shiver went around the room. Even the bravest Aurors in the world shuddered at the task at hand.

"Don't everyone volunteer at once," Moody said gruffly. "I'll do it if no one else is willing to. Never got around to teaching much three years ago, now did I?"

"Alastor, I don't think we can afford to lose you…" Dumbledore said, uncertainty in his voice.

"Things will be fine, Dumbledore. I'm sure Molly and Arthur will be able to handle everything by themselves." He looked over at the Weasleys and gave them a lopsided grin. The redheads looked rather perturbed, but still shook their heads in agreement.

"Yes, I suppose things will be fine."

Moody leaned across the table to talk to Dumbledore in a low, raspy whisper that Harry could hear, "Whatever the boy's future is, the future of the Wizarding world as we know it is the same, Dumbledore. You know the prophecy. This is the only way to vanquish Voldemort once and for all."

"You're right like always, Alastor," Dumbledore replied. Then he addressed the entire room, "Alastor Moody will train Harry next year as well as shoulder the responsibilities of the Defense Against the Dark Arts job." A murmur of disagreement rang through the room.

"Not Moody! He's the only leader we have left!"

"Who else will do it, then?" Moody asked, looking around the room with a mixed look of disgust and anger on his face. "None of you are willing to volunteer. You all heard the prophecy two years ago. Potter is the only one with the power to destroy Voldemort. Whether you are aware of it or not, he holds the fate of the Wizarding world on his shoulders. Tonks was a huge loss to us, and Harry needs the best training possible." Moody's voice and face softened as he glanced over at Harry. This was one of the few times Harry could remember Moody referring to him with his first name.

"The meeting is adjourned then, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes. Resume the tasks appointed to you. Molly, Arthur, please wait here with Dumbledore and Lupin. I need to talk to Potter."

Lupin stepped forward. "Alastor, may I please speak to him first? There are some things I need to tell him."

"Sure, Lupin, go ahead. But don't take too long."

Lupin led Harry out of the nearly empty kitchen (most of the witches and wizards had Apparated already) and into the foyer. "Harry, James and Lily were great people, as you already know. They were both extremely quick-witted, talented, intelligent, and popular: some of the traits I'm starting to see develop in you." He smiled at Harry who felt himself begin to blush. "I don't know if you know this, but James and Lily became Aurors soon after the rise of Voldemort."

No one had told Harry this, but he knew it fit. "No one told me, but somehow I knew," he replied.

Lupin smiled, but behind his smile Harry could see concern. "I can see that you are starting to feel the pressures of Aurorism already."

_Starting?_ Harry couldn't help but think. Instead he forced a smile. "I get by, I guess."

"Will the task of being Head Boy be too much?"

"I don't know. I always thought you had to be a prefect to be Head Boy or Girl."

"Nope. James was it in our grade. It came as a bit of a shock to him when he found out. Severus Snape too. And Lily for that matter since she had to be Head Girl with him." Lupin smiled. "Sirius teased him about it mercilessly all year."

"But why did Dad become Head Boy? From what I've heard he never really followed the rules all that much."

"Neither do you, Harry."

"Well—that's—that's just for—for noble purposes."

"Sure. Hermione's Head Girl, isn't she?"

"Yes. I'm starting to think Dumbledore favors Gryffindor."

"He doesn't. It's just that—I don't mean to be biased, but Gryffindor tends to accumulate the best people and most willing people for such daunting tasks."

Moody limped into the foyer. "Lupin, your time's up. I just filled Molly, Arthur, and Dumbledore in on what sort of things I'll teach Harry within this next year. They'll explain everything to you."

"OK. I have to get going soon anyway. See you around, Harry."

"Bye."

Moody made sure Lupin was out of the room before he began talking to Harry. "Now Potter, I know you know there is a huge task in front of you for this year. Tonks was a great loss to our numbers, but you must continue with your training as soon as possible. Like I said in the meeting, Voldemort's power is rapidly increasing. He won't attack until the end of the year, so we have time, although a small amount. I must get back to my post tonight, but we'll start training tomorrow. Bright and early. Any questions?"

"None at the moment."

"Good. I explained what I'm going to teach you to Molly, Arthur, and Dumbledore. You'll find out tomorrow when there's more time. For now you had better get some sleep, as it will be a busy day tomorrow. Good night, Potter."

"Good night."


	2. An Ambassador

_Chapter 2_

_An Ambassador_

Harry woke up to a hard rapping on his door. "Potter! Training." He recognized Moody's voice and the _clunk_ of his wooden foot. Groaning he glanced at his watch: 5:30. Moody hadn't been kidding when he said bright and early. He rolled off his bed and started to get dressed. It seemed like he had only gotten two hours of sleep. Sleepily, Harry dragged himself out the door of his room. In the hallway he could hear Ron's distinct snores. _He'll probably be sleeping for at least another three hours_, Harry thought jealously. Silently, he walked down the stairs of Grimmauld Place, his wand in his pocket. He could already smell pancakes cooking. Evidently Mrs. Weasley had woken up early too.

"Good morning, Harry dear," she said when he entered the kitchen. He saw a heaping plate of pancakes and another of sausages. With a flick of her wand, Mrs. Weasley had them soaring towards the table. "Sleep well?"

"Sort of," he lied and smiled.

"Good. Now do sit down and have some breakfast," she pleaded while she bustled to pick up the pitcher of orange juice. He did, and didn't realize how hungry he was. Mrs. Weasley put a good six pancakes and eight sausages on his plate at first. Before long, Harry had cleared his plate entirely. "There's a good boy," she said, grinning as she placed the rest of the heaping plate onto his own empty one. "Eat as much as you want to, dear. There's plenty more where that came from." Soon the large griddle was frying once again. "Would you like some pancakes, Alastor?" she asked Moody who was sitting in the corner of the room looking intently at the _Daily Prophet_. Harry hadn't realized he was sitting there.

"Not now thanks, Molly," he replied gruffly. "Although I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee."

Mrs. Weasley quickly bustled around the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Harry took the opportunity to look up at the front of Moody's paper, headlined: _Muggle Artifacts Bewitched: Ministry Officials on the Scene_. Harry had noticed Mr. Weasley hurrying out of the house before he had gone to bed…but then…why weren't they reporting Voldemort? At the end of his fifth year was the last time the _Daily Prophet_ had reported Voldemort in great depth and detail. Moody was in the way back of the paper, evidently intrigued. "Er—Professor?"

"Yeah?" He didn't even look up from reading.

"What are you reading?"

"You see this front page? Have you read the headline?"

"Yes."

He closed the paper. "This front page article only addresses the fact that Ministry officials are trying to figure out who did this. It says their 'leads' lead to careless wizards—most likely drunk—thinking it funny to capture Muggles and bewitch anything and everything they can. It says here that no one should worry and that it has nothing to do with the Dark Lord."

"So that's where Mr. Weasley went? To help the Muggles?"

"Yes. He has informed me that the real leads they have discovered for sure trace back to Voldemort and his supporters. This isn't just one careless act done by drunken fools, Potter. And do you know what kind of Muggle things they bewitched?" Moody's voice kept on getting louder and Harry simply shook his head. "Kitchen knives that would stab Muggles in their sleep! Hedge clippers that will trim more than just the green hedge…and lots of other things too gruesome to even talk about." He flipped his paper to the article he had been reading. "See this?" he asked, shoving it under Harry's nose yet again. "This could be the key to which of Voldemort's supporters was in charge of the bewitching." Harry read: _Supporters of You-Know-Who Caught in Drunken Stupor_. "This is on the back page for a reason, Potter. The _Prophet_ does not want to shoulder the blame for causing a disturbance of the peace. For the last three years they've tried to hide these types of things. True, they told the public about Voldemort's appearance about a year and a half ago, but unfortunately they don't realize that they're only causing more trouble." Moody brought the _Prophet_ back to himself and started dissecting every word in the column again.

"More pancakes, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked again. Harry could tell she was in a happy mood now that he'd decided to eat again.

Harry smiled at her. "Yes, please, Mrs. Weasley."

"Now, Potter, you've already learned disguises, the Web of Life, and a few charms, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll be studying the Unforgivable Curses today." Harry took in a sharp breath. "Don't worry, I won't be using them on you like that imposter in your fourth year. It's more of a studying lesson rather than a practical one." Moody slammed a humungous dusty book on the table. "All the answers to the questions you will have about the Unforgivable Curses are in there, Potter. I don't expect you to read it all, but throughout today I want you to skim it. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Harry replied, picking up the heavy book, his knees practically buckling under its weight.

"Good. Now on the top floor there's a large living room. Do your reading in there so you aren't bothered. I'll make sure no one asks for you."

"OK. Thanks, Professor."

Harry climbed to the top level of Grimmauld Place. Directly to his right he noticed the ancient living room. It was quite out of the way, and there were three huge dusty portraits dominating the walls. Their occupants were sleeping. He opened the front cover of the dusty book and turned to the table of contents. "_Chapter One: The Origination of the Unforgivable Curses, Chapter Two: The Use of the Unforgivable Curses, Chapter Three: Unforgivable Curses Help to Open Azkaban…_" all the way up to "_Chapter One Hundred Thirty Two: Banishing the Unforgivable Curses_." Moody had said he didn't expect him to read it all, but skim it…even that would take forever! He began to read…

Nearly five hours later, Harry had skimmed up to "_Chapter Fifty- Six: The Unforgivable Curses and Aurors_." Although it was somewhat interesting in its own way, there were only so many things he could read about the Unforgivable Curses before it all just looked the same. He didn't realize how much detail went into it. He walked downstairs, the book still under his arm. Moody was again in the kitchen, this time talking to a witch Harry had never seen before in a hushed voice. They both looked up as Harry entered the room.

"Done, Potter?"

"Nope. I just needed a break."

"Good thing, then. Molly says it's almost lunchtime. I'd like you to meet Elizabeth O'Reilly," he said, gesturing to the witch standing beside him. "She's an Auror from Ireland and has come as an ambassador to start up another branch of the Order of the Phoenix. Elizabeth, you know Harry Potter."

She smiled genuinely. "I've heard a lot about you, Harry," she said, extending her hand in a friendly gesture while talking in a rich Irish accent. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," Harry replied. Elizabeth was rather short with mid-length auburn hair and hazel eyes. Her hair accented her pale skin and the few freckles that flecked her face. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties.

Moody chuckled. "Don't be fooled by Elizabeth's appearance, Potter. She's a whole lot tougher than she looks. A great Auror if I ever saw one."

"Thanks, Alastor," Elizabeth stated in her accent, grinning widely again. "It's great to have finally met you, Harry."

Mrs. Weasley then briskly walked into the room and stirred some pots that Harry hadn't realized were sitting on the stove. "Lunch is served in about five minutes, you three," she said. "Harry dear, would you please go upstairs and check that Ron is ready for lunch?"

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley." Harry ran up the stairs, two at a time, and walked into Ron's room where he saw Ron fiercely beating Ginny in a game of wizard's chess. "It's lunchtime, guys," he called into the room, peaking his head around the door.

"One second, mate…almost…have…her…pinned…" Ginny moved her bishop, leaving an obvious spot for Ron to place her king in checkmate. "Yes! Victory is mine!" Ron yelled as he stood up and pumped his fists in happiness, accidentally throwing the chessboard in the process. "Oops, better clean that up later. C'mon, Harry. I'm starving."

The mood seemed almost cheerful at the kitchen table with the Aurors. The snippets of conversation were the lightest Harry had heard in a long time.

"So how has the Bulgarian Quidditch team been this year? I haven't heard much about Krum lately…"

"The Weird Sisters are coming to perform in Diagon Alley this summer! The WWN said so."

"This spaghetti is excellent, Molly."

All expect for Ginny, who was still grumpy due to her spectacular loss to Ron. Her brother didn't help much in the matter; he kept on gloating to her about it. While eating ferociously he tried to tell Harry all about it. "So right away I had already captured her rook and a couple pawns…setting me up to attack her knight…" he took the time to take a huge bite. "'Arry, 'ould 'ou pass da sheez pwease?" Talking politely with food in his mouth never had been a forte of Ron's.

Ginny had been ignoring Ron completely and had started a conversation with Charlie about dragons. "There's really nothing to it while keeping a dragon," Charlie was telling her happily. "All you really have to do is make sure its pen is far enough away from everything that its fire can't reach: trees and houses—old buildings especially. And make sure they have enough food, but that's easy enough—a hundred kilograms of meat is usually pretty good."

"A word please, Harry?" He turned around to see Elizabeth standing behind him.

"Sure." Excusing himself from Ron's play-by-play wizard chess game, he stood up and followed her to the foyer.

"I'm going to have to leave Grimmauld Place soon in order to go back to Ireland. Alastor told me to start my branch of the Order as soon as possible." She looked all around the house and sighed. "I hear this house once belonged to your godfather."

Harry nodded silently in reply. He didn't want to think about Sirius now.

"Sirius Black was a great man. I didn't know him personally, but through the Auror community I've heard a lot of good things about him. My parents had been in this original Order early on before they started up their own in Ireland. They knew Sirius and have always told me good stories about him. Even before his trip to Azkaban he had nothing but loyalty for your parents and the original Order. You should be proud, Harry."

"I am," Harry said, trying to choke back tears at the same time. "I only know Sirius for two years, but it seems like I had known him forever. He was like the father I've never had."

Elizabeth smiled sadly and put her hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Well, I guess I'd better get going. I'll see you soon I'm sure. Bye."

"Bye," he said quietly as she walked out the door.


	3. One Last Time

_Chapter 3_

_One Last Time_

Before Harry knew it, he and the Weasleys headed to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies for the last time. "_The last time_," Harry repeated in his head over and over again. The end was bittersweet; his years at Hogwarts had been the best of his life, but yet, he still couldn't wait to get out into the Wizarding world on his own. He walked with Ron by his side down the all-too-familiar alley. Harry looked around to see many smaller children walking in shops to buy wands, robes, and owls. Many looked intrigued yet others looked frightened.

"To think, mate," Ron said, "this is the last time we have to come here to Diagon Alley to buy schoolbooks and stuff."

"Yeah," Harry said in awe. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"Where are you going to live when we graduate? Grimmauld Place?"

"Probably. The Order will need my help. I'll be a fully trained Auror by then you know." Harry smiled.

"I suppose you will. How do those Auror training session things go anyway?" Ron asked inquisitively as they turned into Flourish and Blots.

"It depends on the day. Sometimes I practice spells, others I study from books, but lately Moody has had me run ten kilometers at five in the morning. He's convinced that I'm not physically fit yet."

"Is he kidding?" Ron asked loudly, his voice cracking. "You've been on the Quidditch team since our first year! If you're not fit, then I'll eat a hippogriff."

"You know Moody," Harry said as he grabbed a copy of _Advanced Book of Spells: Grade Seven_ off the shelf.

"True," Ron said as they walked towards the back of the room to pick up their Defense Against the Dark Arts books: _Conquering the Dark Arts: Deflection, Protection, and Reflection_. Moody turned out to have chosen an immensely complex and difficult book—two thousand pages of complicated charms, spells, animals, and potions. Already Harry thought his bones were going to crack under the book's weight.

"Why…did Moody…have to pick…such…a bloody heavy…book?" Ron asked, panting.

"Don't give up now, Ron, we still have to pick up that N.E.W.T. workbook yet."

"The one Hermione had memorized last year?"

"That's the one."

Sure enough, as they walked farther down the back shelf of Flourish and Blots, they met up with Hermione and her parents. Holding a monstrous pile of books, she glanced at the list her father was holding for her. "No, that's not it…" she mumbled, "…it should be longer than that…" She looked rather irate as she glanced through the N.E.W.T. books, searching desperately for something.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said as he and Ron came up behind her. She jumped in the air and threw her books by accident—they made a large _thud_ when they hit the floor.

"Harry! Ron!" she threw an arm around both their necks. "You startled me!"

"We can see that," Ron said, looking at Hermione's outrageously large pile of books on the floor. They both started helping her pick them up.

"So how has your summer been so far, Hermione?" Harry asked politely.

"Oh, I've been busy studying, like usual!" she said, grinning. "The N.E.W.T. examinations are coming up so fast that I have to get a head start."

"Hermione, it's _summer vacation_," Ron said, strongly emphasizing the word vacation. "You're not supposed to be studying!"

"Oh, but they'll come up and I won't be prepared! You know me, getting the head start." She was talking a mile a minute; Harry had a strong feeling that she had started drinking loads of coffee.

"Do you want to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get something to drink before we continue our shopping?" Harry asked his best friends. Hermione's parents were glancing at Hermione's list nervously.

"Oh! I don't think I've ever formally introduced you two to my parents," Hermione said under her pile of books that she had cradled in her arms again. "Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," both Ron and Harry said politely as they shook both Mr. and Mrs. Granger's hands.

"Hermione's told us all about you two, of course," Mrs. Granger said, smiling. "I hear you are quite the wizards." Mr. Granger readily agreed.

"Hey, how about you two talk with my parents," Ron said at once. "You've met them before…since Dad loves all Muggle things…" he rolled his eyes at which Harry had to promptly stomp on his foot—he didn't want Hermione's parents to feel bad.

"Sounds great," Mr. Granger said.

After the trio finished their beverages, they again walked outside to finish their shopping. After much prodding, Harry and Ron had managed to drag Hermione into Quality Quidditch Supplies where they could marvel at the newest racing brooms and the newest supplies.

"There still isn't a broom that matches the Firebolt," Ron said proudly, still marveling at Harry's own broom. "See?" He pointed to the large display case where a Firebolt lay on a gold pedestal.

"Don't you two ever think about anything but Quidditch?" Hermione asked in a bored tone.

"Nope," Harry said, walking over to a pile of books that was on display. He saw England's Quidditch team grinning widely as they dove and did loop-the-loops on their brooms.

"England's been dominant this year," the storeowner said, coming up behind Harry. "Still undefeated after playing Bulgaria, _and_ Ireland." Harry remembered watching the Quidditch World Cup three years ago with the Weasleys. He had seen for himself what professional teams were like. "Without Adrian Berkley as Keeper, though, we definitely wouldn't be where we are today."

Harry knew this, as he had followed the _Daily Prophet_ and had been able to keep up with Quidditch, something he hadn't been able to do for his whole life ever before. He excused himself from the conversation as Hermione dragged both him and Ron out of the store. "We still have to get Potion supplies," she told them.

"I don't," Ron said happily. "You have no idea how happy I am when I don't have Snape to worry about."

"Still, Harry and I have to replenish our supplies," she said, leading the way to the apothecary.

"You're mental, you know that, Harry?" Ron muttered under his breath. "Taking Snape's class when you really don't have to…"

Two hours later, Hermione was finally satisfied with their shopping trip. Ron had complained most of the time, but still put up with it. "Seventh year is the most important year of Hogwarts!" Hermione kept on expclaiming. "Do you want your education go to waste?" Ron replied with a sullen look.

As they entered the Leaky Cauldron again to meet up with the Weasleys, Harry realized that Hermione's parents weren't there anymore.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Where did your parents go?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm going to stay at Grimmauld Place until the start of the school year."

"Don't you have some more nice _studying_ yet to do?" Ron asked innocently.

"I'm way ahead right now. I think I'll take a break."

Ron looked shocked, but kept his exclamations in.

"Ready to go?" Mr. Weasley asked as they approached the table Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting at. Ginny was there too.

"Mum, can we stop and see Fred and George before we go?" Ron asked. "Harry and Hermione haven't seen the shop yet."

"Oh that's right. Of course we can, dear." The Weasleys led the way out of the Leaky Cauldron and back into the wizard street.

"Harry! Splendid to see you mate."

"Riveting, just riveting!" Harry and everyone else found himself engulfed in the Weasley twins' hugs and pats on the back as he entered the shop Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was rather crowded, so the twins met them in the entrance to the shop.

"Still a fairly good turnout I see," Ron said, looking around at all the people in the shop.

"We've done a fair bit of advertising this year…" George said, grinning.

"…and the result you see right in front of you," Fred added, gesturing around the shop, grinning proudly

"You're just regular entrepreneurs, aren't you?" Hermione asked, but couldn't help smiling for all the success.

"Oh, better get going, that line's backed up already." Fred said, starting to move through the crowd. "Good to see you all…"

Mrs. Weasley stopped them. "Are you two coming home anytime soon?" she asked sternly.

"We were planning to visit Grimmauld Place next week."

"A well-deserved break in my opinion," George said, yawning widely. "Working every day of the week really wears you out."

"Bye, everybody!" With that the twins settled in behind the counter and started answering their customers' questions.

"Who knew they could get this far with only a joke shop?" Mrs. Weasley asked as they bowed out the door. "They're really quite a bit smarter than I ever gave them credit for."


	4. A Final Homecoming

_Chapter 4_

_A Final Homecoming_

Harry was looking forward to coming back to Hogwarts. He had enjoyed his time at Grimmauld Place, but really wanted to just get going with his life and start working—not just for the Order of the Phoenix, but for the Ministry of Magic. Ever since Sirius had died Grimmauld Place just seemed like a temporary safe-haven that would only protect him so long. Harry knew he had to avenge Sirius's murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew he ultimately had to kill Voldemort, but he kept on thinking of his godfather and how he had to get his revenge.

Harry had found himself in Buckbeak the hippogriff's room again. He absentmindedly stroked the hippogriff's feathers while sitting on the floor, contemplating. He was alone. His parents gone, his godfather gone, even the Dursleys gone. Harry knew the Order was like his family now, and the Weasleys always thought of him as their brother or son, but it wasn't the same. He didn't _belong_ to anyone. Sighing, he stood up and walked around the room thinking of how Sirius had demolished the whole house of all things reminding him of his family only two years before. _He did all that for me and for the Order_, Harry thought. _He faced his family past just to provide us with a safe place to go_… Harry choked back the tears in his eyes. He had only known Sirius for a little over two years, but in that time he had gotten closer to him than he had to anyone else. He wished he could talk to his godfather again, but knew Dumbledore was much too busy than to perform the spell that would bring him back, if only briefly…

"Harry? Could I talk to you for a moment?" came Lupin's kind, fatherly voice from the doorway. Harry nodded. Lupin bowed to Buckbeak then walked over to sit on the bed to pat him on the beak. "I know what you're thinking about." Harry didn't say anything. "You know that you're going to have to face Voldemort by the end of your school year. Therefore you'll also have to face Bellatrix Lestrange." Still, Harry only looked at Lupin. "Sirius and James were the best friends I've ever had, as I've told you countless times. I know both of them seemed like a father figure to you and now they're both gone." Harry knew all this. What was Lupin getting at? "It's been a hard last sixteen years for me. When Sirius told me that James and Lily were dead I was completely astounded. Their lives had been so perfect, but Voldemort took that perfection away from them, and you, forever. I knew James would try and confront him before he got to Lily and you. That's just how your father lived his life—he always worried about others before himself. James never judged me for who I was, as did Sirius. We would have all died for each other."

"But not Wormtail?" Harry said in an oddly high-pitched voice. "I thought he was one of your gang too."

Lupin's face changed from that of love and kindness to that of hatred. "I don't think I can ever forgive Peter for what he's done, but that doesn't mean you have to avenge him too. Listen, Harry, I know how much Sirius meant to you and I can understand your wanting to face Bellatrix Lestrange, but _you have to kill Voldemort_."

"And leave Sirius's memory in shambles?" Harry practically yelled as he jumped up. "Leave his murderer free to kill as many other people as she wants? Leave her to follow Voldemort and do his will?!"

"Harry, you must understand. The Order will take care of the Death Eaters, you just have to worry about Vol—"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT VOLDEMORT ANYMORE!" Harry was yelling now. "SIRIUS DIED FOR ME AND I'LL DIE FOR HIM IF NECESSARY!"

"I knew this was how you would react," Lupin said, his face remaining calm. "Sirius died over a year ago already and…"

"SO THAT MAKES HIM LESS IMPORTANT, DOES IT? THAT HE ALREADY DIED OVER A YEAR AGO?!"

"Harry, calm down," Lupin said, this time more sharply. Harry obeyed, though reluctantly. "I know you shoulder a huge burden. I know you didn't ask for it, but you have no choice. If you never kill Voldemort, he will come back, this time even worse than before. I know that you know this. Listen, Harry, I care about you and I care about your safety. I know that I can't be a substitute for Sirius, or James, but please just let me try." Harry looked into the man's eyes. He could see pain, he could see exhaustion, and he could see a void that would never be filled. Harry had never thought about how hard his parents' and Sirius's death had been on Lupin. "Please, Harry. Just let me try."

"OK," Harry managed to choke out as Lupin pulled him into a fatherly embrace. Harry couldn't help it as the tears came and he started crying into Lupin's shoulder.

"Stealth. The most important thing an Auror can learn," Moody said as he and Harry stood in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. "You have to use your head or else you've already failed. You have to know what the enemy is thinking, and you have to do something they wouldn't expect of you. Disguises can get you so far, but sometimes you have to actually physically be with the enemy in order to succeed. You have to be quiet, be aware of your surroundings, and work accordingly. I'll stage three conversations from three different people during the morning around number twelve here and you will report to me during lunch what you heard from each of them, to whom I was speaking, and where we were talking. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Training starts now."

So Harry spent the entire four hours before lunch on his toes. He had to keep track of where Moody was at all times without being seen. Whenever Moody caught him in the act, however, the weathered Auror would turn around and give him bits of advice such as, "too loud, Potter" or "I could hear you five minutes ago". By the end Harry was finally getting used to it. During a lunch of cold cut sandwiches he told Moody about all he had overheard with Moody's conversations with Mr. Weasley, Hermione, and Sturgis Podmore.

"Good, Potter, very good. I'm impressed with your progress. You can have the rest of the day off."

Before Harry knew it, he was on the train to go to Hogwarts for his final year there. He, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny (who had been named a prefect the year before) all staked out a compartment for themselves, Neville, and Luna Lovegood, and went to the front of the train where the prefects had gathered. A conductor told them what to do. "Who are the Head Boy and Girl this year?" he asked, looking around at the students. Hermione and Harry tentatively raised their hands. "Good, good. You two will receive further instruction when we arrive at the school, but for now please split into groups and patrol the compartments every so often to make sure no students are misbehaving. Is that understood?"

A murmured "yes" resonated through the compartment. "OK, good. Enjoy the ride!"

As Harry walked with Hermione and Ron back to their compartment, they met up with none other than Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. "Perfect little Potter, Head Boy. You've always been Dumbledore's _favorite_ student," he snarled. Then he turned to Hermione. "A Mudblood as Head Girl," he scuffed. "You would think Dumbledore favors Gryffindor, wouldn't you? Surely this is as low as Hogwarts has ever gotten…" Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee but just then Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan jumped out of the nearest compartment. They had bulked up over the summer.

"All right there, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny?" Seamus called.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Thanks, Seamus. Did you have a good summer?"

"Oh yeah. Mum and Dad took me to Greece this summer!" he replied excitedly.

Hermione practically squeaked with excitement. "Ohh, what a great opportunity! What did you all see?"

Malfoy and Pansy took the time to sneak away, eying Seamus and Dean with wary eyes. Harry realized that Malfoy's bulky cronies Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle weren't in sight. After a rather long chat with Seamus and Dean the foursome made their way back to the compartment.

"What kept you?" Luna asked dreamily as she looked up from her latest edition of _The Quibbler_. Neville was sitting across from her looking out the window with glazed eyes. Harry thought this was odd behavior, even for Neville, but thought nothing of it.

"Ran into some friends," Ginny replied, sitting down next to her.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" Ron asked, extracting a card deck from his pocket. They all agreed, but took breaks in between games when Hermione insisted they patrol the corridors.

After the twelfth game of Exploding Snap, Harry saw Hogwarts Castle's lights twinkling in the distance. He smiled sadly as he thought, _Home, for the final time_. Hermione nudged Harry so they could get out of their compartment quickly. "The Head Boy and Girl and prefects have to help the conductors get the students off," she said quietly. He nodded, took his trunk and Hedwig in her cage out into the hallway to get to the doors as the train started slowing down. Hermione grabbed Crookshanks and her trunk too, as did Ron and Ginny. They put their things off to the side so they could help.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny!" came a booming voice over the tops of the students who had already gotten off the train.

"Hi Hagrid!" Harry called, making his way towards his towering friend as Hermione ushered the first years towards Hagrid.

"Head boy, eh, Harry? Good for yeh!" Hagrid exclaimed as he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Knew yeh had it in you!" Harry's knees buckled, but he still beamed up at Hagrid.

"Oi! Harry! A little help, please?" Ron called irritably.

"Right. First years, this way!"

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, may I have a word with you, please?" Professor McGonagall asked as they entered the Great Hall. "In my office, quickly now." Hermione and Harry left Ron, Ginny, and Neville as they approached the Great Hall and followed Professor McGonagall. "I am thrilled to receive word that you two are both Head Boy and Girl," she said. Hermione tried not to look too pleased at this comment. "However, these two positions require many hours outside school time. It can become quite an overwhelming task." Hermione straightened in her chair. Harry knew this was to show McGonagall that she was willing for the job. "I want you two to promise me something: that you will keep up with your grades and any extra activities outside of your studies, in addition to your new positions." She turned to Harry. "This means Quidditch, Potter. If you fail to complete your Head Boy duties in addition to your Quidditch captain duties, we will be looking for a new Seeker." McGonagall looked grim.

"You mean I don't even have a choice in which one I continue with?" Harry burst out.

"No. Your Head Boy duties come first. So just be sure to keep up with everything and you'll be fine. I don't mean to put any pressure on you or anything, but it is essential that you balance everything—especially if you still want to become an Auror, Potter. And a teacher." McGonagall turned to Hermione. Harry hadn't realized that he had never even asked Hermione what she was going to do after Hogwarts. The strict professor stood up and quickly ushered them out of the room. "That's all for now, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. I shall inform you of any upcoming tasks. Now go along to the feast." She turned left as they turned right to get to the Great Hall. Harry knew she was going to collect the first years after their trip across the lake.

Harry and Hermione walked in silence for a couple moments until Harry broke it. "So you're going to teach here after school?" he asked, looking at Hermione.

She grinned. "Yes. I think it fits me pretty well, and this way I can stay in the Wizarding world most of the time instead of heading back to the Muggle world. Besides, I couldn't find anything else that really interested me."

"I think you'll be brilliant, Professor Granger," Harry said, a grin crossing his face.

Hermione chuckled. "Thanks. Let's hope so."


	5. A Secret Untold

_Chapter 5_

_A Secret Untold_

"Welcome, to yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, told the student body. "I extend a special welcome to those new to our school," he turned to glance at the first years, "as well as those returning for their final year." Harry caught Dumbledore's eye as the headmaster scanned the crowd of seventh years for quite some time. The elderly man inhaled deeply, trying to fight back a welling emotion. It stuck out like a sore thumb to Harry, as he had never seen his mentor so stressed, including the previous year. "I won't beat around the bush saying everything in the Wizarding world is fine, because, as all of you well know from the past couple years, it isn't. Lord Voldemort has regained an astonishing amount of power in the past two years alone." Some students still cringed at the name, but Harry was happy to see that this number had drastically decreased since last year alone. Dumbledore continued. "Although the Ministry strongly opposes, this year at Hogwarts will not be any different than other years. I strongly encourage all students and teachers to stay on your toes, but do not live in a constant state of fear. Hogwarts is one of the safest places you can be. Do not fret over Lord Voldemort just yet.

"A reminder that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, and Quidditch practices will begin…"

Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione, who looked astonished. "Why doesn't he have any extra security? He knows what Voldemort is planning!" Hermione whispered. Ron nodded in agreement.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "It's Dumbledore, he's always done what he wants." He let out a sly grin.

Ron looked nervously at Hermione and then looked around to see if anyone was paying them any attention, but all eyes were still on Dumbledore. "Listen, Harry, there's something that Mum and Dad and Moody were talking about that Hermione and I sort of overheard one evening."

"What? I was around Grimmauld Place all summer, why didn't I hear about it?"

"Well…it was sort of during one of your training sessions," Hermione said offhandedly.

"When?"

"When Moody put you up in that library to skim that huge book for five hours straight." Ron explained. "We found out it was a diversion in order for them to discuss matters with Moody privately, without him having to look in on your training."

"That's why he put me up there?" He couldn't help it as his voice began to rise. No one trusted him with important information anymore.

"Yes," Hermione said, looking around at the Gryffindor table. "Harry, please keep your voice down. We'll explain everything in further detail later in the common room."

Harry felt anger rise in him. _Why_ didn't anyone trust him to know Voldemort's plans? He wasn't a child anymore!

"Lastly, I am proud to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody!" Dumbledore said, gesturing to the end of the table where the aging Auror sat. The weathered man nodded his head slightly at Dumbledore in respect, his grave facial expression seemingly carved in stone. Harry knew that Moody had been through great ordeal in the past couple months, but he tried to cover it with numerous masks. The Auror attempted to grin at the students in a mismatched sort of way. Only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, however, seemed to know that was his intent. Most of the other students looked either slightly horrified or else amused. "Some of you might recognize him from three years ago where an imposter unfortunately took his place, but please join me in welcoming Professor Moody to Hogwarts!" Scattered polite applause filled the Hall, but the attention was waning; Dumbledore noticed. "There is a big day ahead for all of us, so I strongly suggest you get a good night's sleep. Good night, everyone."

"So what's the big deal?" Harry demanded as everyone stood up to leave. A great rumbling came from all sides of them as benches scraped on the floor and everyone began to talk once again about their summer vacation.

The trio walked towards the exit. Ron and Harry almost stopped by the crowd of first years to lead them towards the dormitories, but Hermione insisted that they keep on going. Ron was in utter shock. "Hermione? Not following instructions?"

"They have other prefects to lead them upstairs. We have more important matters to deal with." Both Harry and Ron gaped at her, but she quickly dismissed it. Instead of walking up the typical stairwell to get back to the Gryffindor Tower, she led them to a much less used side door. "Less chance of being overheard," she explained. "Besides, we need a change of scenery."

"So _what's the big deal_?" Harry asked, getting rather irritable now.

"The big deal is that Neville was attacked this summer."

"Neville _Longbottom_?" Harry asked, astonished. He felt sorry for the pain his classmate had to overcome, but didn't know what it had to do with him.

Hermione nodded. "By Voldemort and two Death Eaters," she said gravely. "The entered his grandmother's house when he was home alone."

"That's horrible!" Harry exclaimed. "What happened to him?"

"Well, Aurors came to the scene immediately, just in the nick of time and took him to St. Mungo's, but the Death Eaters got away," Ron said somberly.

"No offense meant to Neville, but what does this has to do with me? Why is it such big news?"

Hermione took in a deep breath. "It's big news because Neville is guarded almost as heavily as you are, Harry." Tears filled her eyes. "They got him with the Crucius Curse, just like they did to his parents."

"But why did they go after him? And why is he protected by Aurors?"

"His parents knew a ton of stuff for the Order back in their day," Ron explained. "Neville probably knows a few things even Moody doesn't know about. Evidently when the Frank and Alice Longbottom went crazy, the Order put at least three Aurors to work guarding Neville at a time. The thing is that there weren't many Aurors to spare, just as there is a shortage now. Still, there have been Aurors constantly on Neville's watch ever since he was a baby."

"Do you know who knows about Neville's guard?"

"Not many," Hermione chimed in again. "Dumbledore obviously knew, as did Moody and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but beyond that I doubt anyone really understood where certain Aurors in the Order went when they disappeared for hours at a time. Remember how Tonks and everyone used to just disappear for a day or so and we just assumed it was tracking Voldemort? Well, it appears that most of the time they were just keeping track of Neville."

The three continued their trek towards the Gryffindor Tower in silence. "Why didn't they tell me?" Harry asked quietly.

"Listen, mate, you have enough on your plate as it is, with school and Quidditch and training and all. Don't explode at us for not telling you, nor for the Order for not telling you." Harry knew Ron was trying to prevent him from yelling. At the moment he felt so sick to his stomach he thought he might faint, much less yell.

"I'm not going to explode, Ron," Harry said even quieter than before. "I just can't believe…they hurt Neville so much…" He felt himself full of ranging emotion: rage, anger, sadness, humbleness, and understanding for Neville's past. By then they had reached the Gryffindor Tower. Most of the stragglers had already gone inside. Harry gravely told the Fat Lady the password that he had heard downstairs ("Copernicus"). No one felt much like sticking around the common room, so Harry and Ron solemnly bade Hermione good night and climbed the steps to the boys' dormitories with heavy hearts. Harry had wanted so badly to hear about Neville's parents and his past when he originally found out the Longbottoms were estranged. Now he wasn't quite so sure. Some secrets need to remain untold.


	6. Old Wounds Reopened

_Chapter 6_

_Old Wounds Reopened_

Harry's life wasn't getting any easier. He barely slept that night after Ron and Hermione told him about Neville and everything just seemed to be falling apart. Worse yet, that day he had Double Potions, a rigorous Transfiguration hour, plus Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. He woke up to Ron prodding him. "Harry, mate, get up. Breakfast time."

Rolling over, Harry groaned and tried to fall back asleep. "I don't—wanna go…"

"Listen, Harry, it's the first day of class. Hermione is waiting for us already. Come on." Before he knew it, Ron was pulling him up to a standing position. "You can't sleep any longer or else we won't get any breakfast." Then Ron looked Harry in the face. His tone of voice softened as he quickly took a glance out the door. "Neville, eh?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I couldn't fall asleep knowing what happened to him over the summer."

"I'm sorry, mate, but we had to tell you. It's somehow all connected, but I don't think even you understand how just yet."

"Nope. Let me pull on my robes and we can go down to the Great Hall soon."

The only people left in the Hall were a few stragglers as Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in. They quickly sat down at the Gryffindor table and started eating a few pieces of toast with marmalade. Harry carefully scanned the near-empty table, looking for Neville. "I still can't believe they did that to Neville," he said quietly to Hermione and Ron.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" Hermione asked just as quietly.

"Nope. I couldn't knowing how all that had happened, him being attacked and all…"

"You know this will add up to a great significance in the end, don't you Harry?" Hermione stated. "It's bound to be all connected and related if Moody kept it from you for so long."

"I know. I just wish I knew _how_." The bell rang, warning them to begin their journey to their first class. Harry and Hermione walked in the direction of the dungeons while Ron traipsed off towards his Muggle Studies class (Hermione was pleasantly surprised when he told them he was going to try and take it this year: "It will be a great learning experience for you! Maybe you'll end up with your dad's job someday!" Ron didn't seem too pleased with this, but smiled weakly. Harry knew he wanted desperately to become an Auror, but now it seemed like he might have had other plans in mind.). Harry sighed. Another two hours with Snape. Just what he always wanted.

Snape wasn't in his dungeon yet when Hermione and Harry opened the door to walk in. The same people from the year before were in the classroom as the entered—all except for Anthony Goldstein and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hannah Abbott was explaining to Harry and Hermione how Justin had decided that he just couldn't take the pressure from Snape anymore as Michael Corner came up to them. "Same with Anthony. He said he just couldn't take the stress, as much as he wants to become an Auror later on."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Anthony wanted to become an…Auror?"

"Yeah. Said his family has always been loyal to Dumbledore, although none of them really gained much attention because they never became fully trained Aurors."

Harry was jubilant. So the Auror profession wasn't as dire as he thought it would be. People really did want to fight Voldemort. He shot a smile at Hermione, which she gladly returned with relief. The Slytherins had gathered on the other side of the aisle. The people gathered around Draco Malfoy glanced at Harry and sniggered. "Potter survived the summer, did he? Those Death Eaters didn't scare wee Potter at all?" He was talking in an annoying baby voice. Hermione, Dean, Michael, and Hannah all gave Harry reassuring looks as they glared back at Malfoy.

"At least I have my priorities straight," Harry responded simply. "At least I don't have to grovel in front of Voldemort for acceptance."

Malfoy jumped up. "Don't you insult my family, Potter. At least I actually have a family."

The door opened with a loud, resonant _bang_ as Snape walked in. Harry hadn't risen to Malfoy's bait—he hadn't even stood up, but Snape still managed to find something wrong with him: "Face forward, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor." Normally Harry would have seethed at the injustice Snape often dealt him. But now he felt oddly lighthearted. He had support from more people than just Hermione and Ron. The majority of the school was behind him. He felt like he could face anything, including Snape. Those hollow black eyes remained fixed on Harry's face, as if challenging him to retaliate, but Harry kept his mouth closed as he looked up at the Potions master expectantly. "Now, we will continue on from last year. I hope you have been studying hard over the break, or else I daresay this year may be…_too hard_ for you." His eyes still lingered to the side of the room in which the Slytherins were not sitting as he let loose a greasy and evil smile. "Leave my classroom now if you know you will fail this course."

Harry fought a strong desire to just pick up his cauldron, books, and potion supplies and walk out the door of Snape's classroom forever because of the unfairness he knew was inevitable, but stayed in his seat and stared back at Snape just as icily. He would prove Snape wrong. He would become an Auror and defeat Voldemort. He would survive Snape's class. Harry thought of his parents, Cedric Diggory, Sirius, and Tonks. Their memories would pull him through.

"We will continue this course from last year by working with Veritaserum, the most powerful truth potion you can make. It will take at least a month of diligent work and careful watch over your cauldrons." At this Hermione sat up even straighter. "The instructions for the first stage are on the board," at this he flipped the blackboard around to reveal his miniscule writing spelling out a potion more complex than any potion recipes Harry had ever seen before, including the Polyjuice Potion in his second year. "Each day has a stage just like this and it will get increasingly complex. Fall behind and you receive a zero for this potion. If all turns out well, we will be finished with this in forty days. Your assignment is to research Veritserum: its uses, its restrictions, the use of it within the Ministry, and anything else…worthwhile. It should cover two rolls of parchment to be turned in to me at the beginning of class on Wednesday. You may begin." There was a rustle of paper as all students stood up to collect the supplies needed. Harry saw Hermione dig out a quill, ink, and a piece of parchment. Immediately she put a charm on the quill and it began to skate across the parchment.

"Taking a leaf out of Rita Skeeter's book by using a Quik Quotes Quill to take notes?" Harry asked her.

"No," she replied pleasantly, "it's copying down the instructions on the board down for me so I won't have to waste half of my time trying to read that tiny writing." She busied herself by walking to the front of the room to collect supplies for herself and Harry.

"Brilliant idea," Hannah said from Harry's left as he took out her own quill and parchment. Soon the entire left side of the classroom had quills frantically sliding over parchment.

Harry's heart was a bit lighter as he started adding ingredients to his cauldron. _Two frog spleens, finely chopped wormwood, ten whole caterpillars…_ He began to chop up his wormwood just as Hermione got back from the front of the room. She chuckled slightly as she saw Harry, Dean, Hannah, and Michael's quills skating across their parchment. "You're brilliant, Hermione," Harry explained. She did nothing but shake her head.

"Writing notes behind my back?" Snape asked as he passed by Harry's table. All of the quills were still feverishly copying down the instructions from the front of the room.

"No, Professor, sir," Hermione began to explain, "you see, we just wanted to have the instructions right in front of us so we could save time…you see."

"No, Granger, I do not see. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Ten from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. If my writing isn't clear enough for you, maybe this is: one more retaliation and you are out of my class."

Hermione bowed her head. "Yes, sir." The Slytherins chuckled appreciatively from across the room, but Hermione ignored them as Snape walked up towards his desk. "I had anticipated that," she told Harry and the rest. "Which is why I copied a few more." She quietly passed a copy of Snape's instructions back to Dean and Michael to share while she placed a second in front of herself, strategically hidden underneath her ingredients. "We'll pass this class yet, no matter what it takes."

Hermione's strategy worked. They were all careful to look up at the board on occasion, as if reading it in deep concentration and to cover Hermione's neatly copied instructions whenever Snape passed by their tables. Although he found picky mistakes with their potions, he was unable to take any more points from their Houses. Harry feverishly followed the instructions laid out in front of him as he stirred the contents in his cauldron. "If this is the first stage, I'd hate to see the fifteenth," he told Hannah and Hermione quietly, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You're doing great, Harry," Hermione said comfortingly, dumping her shredded bezoar into her cauldron. Harry did the same, and was pleased when his potion turned almost the exact same shade as Hermione's. Now all he had to do was stir it for five more minutes…

Just as Harry finished stirring and put his cauldron aside to simmer, Snape called out, "By now you should be almost prepared to simmer your potion for the two days. Start cleaning up." Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he and Hermione started to clean the ingredients from their table. Hannah and Michael appeared to be doing fairly well, but Dean was still struggling. Hermione quietly walked over to help him, avoiding Snape's eye and pretending to be cleaning the table. Harry knew she had too much experience with their Potions classes than to just walk over there to help Dean. Harry was thankful for this: at the rate things were going Gryffindor wouldn't able to afford losing any more points. He was already exhausted. This was going to be a long year.


	7. Quidditch

_Chapter 7_

_Quidditch_

"You two look like you've just taken a beating," Ron said cheerfully as he met up with them in the Transfiguration classroom.

"Maybe because we just spent two hours trying to concentrate as hard as we could with Snape breathing down our necks as we made Veritserum," Harry said irritably as he and Hermione collapsed into chairs on either side of Ron. Hermione remained silent as she dug out her Transfiguration book.

"Well I was just promoted to the N.E.W.T. division of Muggle Studies!" Ron exclaimed happily. Harry could tell he had been wanting to tell him and Hermione about it all morning.

At this Hermione looked up and beamed at Ron. "That's great," she said, her face glowing.

"Yeah, they told me I knew so much about it already that I needn't go through the introductory courses. I think I knew so much because of Dad's outrageous collection of plugs and batteries and all that." He leaned back in his chair, stretching his lanky frame. "Who knew all that junk Dad studies could be useful?"

Just then, McGonagall briskly walked into the room. A respectful silence fell over the room as she walked up to her desk. "I'm not going to tell you this year will be easy for you, because it won't be. You will find yourself stretched beyond all reason during your seventh year while you prepare for the real world. You completed the first half of the N.E.W.T. courses last year and this year won't be getting any easier." Ron groaned—he had had lots of trouble with Transfigurations last year. Harry knew Hermione would inevitably be helping them in preparing for their N.E.W.T. testing in June. "Now, today we shall discuss human transfiguration. We won't actually begin working practically with it until October, but please begin by taking notes…"

Everyone was grateful when the bell rang for lunch. Harry's head was swimming: truth potions and human transfiguration all in one morning can get rather confusing. "Well, at least we have Hagrid's class to look forward to this afternoon," Hermione said, studying her schedule as she grabbed the tray filled with prime rib from the middle of the table. "That should be rather easy compared to our other classes."

"Let's hope it is," Ron said, sighing. "I can't take much more of all this in our first day back."

In the middle of the meal, Moody came up to the them at the Gryffindor table. "Having a good day back?" he asked gruffly.

"A bit tiring so far," Harry replied exasperatedly.

Moody grinned his lopsided grin. "If anyone can handle the pressure of N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts it's you three. You've all had quite a few adventures from what I've heard." They all glowed at Moody's compliment as he bent down and whispered in Harry's ear. "Potter, when are you available for your first training session? We have to get going on that again."

Harry thought for a moment. Snape's essay and McGonagall's ten-page assignment in the N.E.W.T. workbook loomed over him, as did the Quidditch tryout that would happen on Friday to replace Katie Bell and Zachary Lyons from last year. "Um…Thursday evening?"

"Thursday it is, Potter. You have a lot on your plate already from what I can see." He straightened up. "Goodbye, Miss Granger, Potter, Weasley."

"Bye." As he walked back to the head table, the bell rang for the end of lunch. "Let's hope Sprout is easy on us," Harry added as they walked off to the greenhouses for Herbology.

That night the seventh years—Harry and Hermione in particular—found themselves with a pile of homework larger than they had even fathomed during the summer. "I've been on this…stupid page…forever…" Ron grumbled as he tried to get through the workbook pages McGonagall had assigned. Hermione didn't retort at him for once, as she was engrossed in her Potions homework.

It was already midnight. Harry put down his quill and rubbed his face with his hands. "I wish Fred and George were here, they would lighten the mood a bit." A few fifth years were sitting at a table across the room, and Ginny was curled up reading her Charms book by the fireplace, but otherwise Hermione, Ron, and Harry were the only ones left in the common room.

"Me too, mate, me too," Ron said, crossing out yet another one of his answers in the N.E.W.T. workbook. "I just can't get this!"

While still writing her Potions essay, Hermione dug out her wand, muttered an incantation, and Ron's paper was clear except for the right answers. There were only two that were still blank. "The answers that you got wrong are still blank, but if you came up with the right ones, they should be legible now."

"Thanks, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, looking down at the two blanks in front of him. "Hey! I know those answers too!" He excitedly worked the problems out by himself.

"Provides me with an easier way of correcting those obscure answers too," Harry heard Hermione mumble under her breath. Harry turned back to his still empty roll of parchment. This was going to take forever…

Harry again was the last of his dormitory to wake up. There was a figure standing across the room, busying himself with something in his trunk, but Harry couldn't make out whom it was. He sleepily rolled out of bed and pulled on his robes. "Harry! I want to talk to you about something." The figure walked across the room and Harry recognized the voice as Neville's. He felt a pang in his heart as he thought of what that clumsy boy had been through in the past couple months.

"Oh, hullo, Neville."

"I wanted to talk to you about Friday and the Quidditch tryout."

Harry stopped what he was doing and thought, _Oh no. Don't try out for the team, Neville. I'd have to judge you._ "Yes, I'm listening."

Neville took in a deep breath. "Harry, I want to try out for the team as a Chaser."

Gaping at Neville, Harry's heart sank. He couldn't have Neville on the team or Gryffindor's chances of the Quidditch Cup were shattered—he had seen his classmate fly and it wasn't pretty. "Well," Harry began slowly, "there's always room for more people to try out…"

"I know you're thinking I'm not good at Quidditch. I'll admit I'm not the best at it, but I've been practicing a lot over the summer and I think I have a shot at it. I want to do it…for my parents." Neville's voice cracked a little. "You've seen them, Harry, in our fifth year at St. Mungo's. Dad played in his younger years and I want to make them proud. V-Vol-Voldemort won't stop me from living my life and my dream." Harry looked at Neville's determination and realized that he had finally grown out of his pudginess a bit over the summer. Neville had grown leaner and taller, his face, less round than Harry had remembered, gave him an actual handsome look. "I know I'm still clumsy, but please consider me, Harry." At that, he walked out the dormitory door, leaving Harry still in his pajamas.

Harry got through the rest of the week all right, even Moody's training session. He hadn't had any mishaps in Potions yet, even though Snape still thought it necessary to dock at least twenty points from Gryffindor every class period (Harry wasn't worried, however, since Hermione gained them back quick as a flash with other teachers). Even his potion still matched Hermione's after every single class. But before he knew it, Friday night rolled around. He hadn't told anyone about the conversation he had had with Neville earlier in the week, so once Neville walked out onto the field, a broom under his arm and sheer determination on his face, Ron was shocked. "Neville?" he said, a bit too loudly for Harry's liking, so he shot Ron a death glare. Taking the hint, Ron went silent.

It was a good turnout. There was a wide range of people there: Neville, Colin Creevey, and a bunch of other people Harry didn't know. Ron motioned that he wanted to talk to him. "Harry, why is Neville here? You're aware of how clumsy he is. It'll ruin Gryffindor's Quidditch reputation!"

"Just give him a chance, Ron," was all Harry responded. He didn't want to explain Neville's situation quite yet. "OK, everyone, line up starting right here. There are two positions open for Chaser, and I'm sorry to say right away that not all of you will be on the team. Now, I will try my best to simulate a real game. Ginny will fly with you, so you will always have the option to throw it to her, although you have to be the one to throw it towards the hoops, which Ron will be guarding. Seamus and Dean will hit Bludgers at you as well, so be sure to watch out for those, which I will let out in a minute. You will try and throw the best out of ten scoring attempts. Any questions?" The lineup of rookies didn't say a word, although many of them looked green and some fidgeted. "OK then, who's up first?" A timid petite girl with waist-length auburn hair tied back into a ponytail stepped forward. She looked about ready to faint. "What's your name?" Harry asked kindly.

"Sara...Peterson," she managed to say.

"Well, Sara, let's see what you can do. I'm letting the Bludgers out now!" he called to Seamus and Dean. They nodded and Harry flew above to watch the tryout. Ginny lightly threw the Quaffle towards Sara, who actually stopped in midair in fear of catching it, not unlike what Ron had been like when he started in their fifth year. Harry lowered his head. This would be a long couple hours.

"Next!" Harry called from where he was near the goalposts. The line had gotten much shorter, even though no one really stuck out to him as astonishingly good. One girl early on had gotten seven out of the ten attempts, but other than that things were getting rather ugly. He looked up to see Neville striding towards the middle of the field, his broomstick dragging behind. Gulping, Harry prepared himself for disappointment—Neville had never been much of a standout in anything. Especially after their conversation earlier in the week. "OK, Neville. Show us your stuff."

Nodding his head, Neville mounted his broom with such grace that Harry did a double-take to make sure it was the same Neville Longbottom he had met on the train a little over six years ago. Ginny flew with him and tossed the red Quaffle in his direction. Harry held his breath as he watched Neville soar through the air, seemingly effortlessly. He caught the Quaffle and put it under his arm instinctively just like any Chaser would. A Bludger soared in his direction, sent by Dean. Harry thought he would have a direct hit, but at the last minute the once pudgy and clumsy boy swerved out of the way. With only Ron blocking the goal in front of him, he went left (as did Ron), and threw the Quaffle towards the right hoop, and skimmed in off the rim. It was one of the best shots Harry had ever seen.

The crowd of amateur Quidditch players roared with appreciation, filling the empty stadium with such a loud noise that Harry thought people in Hogsmeade would be able to hear it. Neville Longbottom, a standout Chaser? A smile crossed Harry's lips, but it couldn't beat the one on Neville's face. "I did it, Harry!" he yelled.

"Now just do that exact same thing nine more times and you'll have it in the bag," Harry called back.

Enjoying the feeling of success, Neville quickly put in another score. He had tossed the ball back to Ginny so quickly that Harry was afraid she would drop it herself. She threw it back to him and he drove to the hoops, beating Ron to the ring and scoring once more. The next he threw it in the air and tapped it in like a volleyball player. They all went in. All ten of them. The crowd still cheered Neville on as he sank towards the ground again. Harry knew he had one more tryout, but one thing was for sure: Neville Longbottom had just made the Gryffindor Quidditch team.


	8. Learning from the Best

_Chapter 8_

_Learning from the Best_

Neville and a fifth year girl named Amber Isaacson made the Gryffindor team. Neville glowed with pride when Harry announced to the entire Gryffindor common room who he had chosen to be the new Chasers. The entire room filled with cheers as Neville had been hoisted onto Seamus and Dean's shoulders. Someone had apparently snuck down to the kitchens upon hearing about his spectacular performance. People offered Neville butterbeer as well as every single torte and chocolate candy imaginable. Harry grinned once more upon seeing Neville Longbottom in the middle of the attention as he chose a seat to the side of all the commotion. Soon Hermione and Ron joined him.

"Wow, that was some performance," Ron said, taking a long drink from his butterbeer. "Who knew Neville Longbottom had it in him?"

Harry remained silent, well aware that Hermione was looking at him intently. "Does this have something to do with his family, this achievement today?" she asked Harry quietly. Ron stopped his bottle as it was halfway towards his mouth as he listened.

"Yes," Harry replied. "He talked with me about it earlier this week."

"What about his family?" Ron asked.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Harry said. He didn't think something like what Neville had revealed to him would be good to tell anyone just yet, not even Hermione and Ron. They understood and remained silent.

"I still can't believe Neville did that," Ron said in awe. "And I always thought he would be doomed to his clumsiness all his life." Before taking another draught from his bottle, he couldn't help himself from saying, "Neville _Longbottom_, a standout Chaser for Gryffindor…" Harry grinned. Exactly what he was thinking.

At the end of Harry's next Auror session with Moody, the professor had a discussion with him. "You're doing well, Potter, very well indeed," he growled. "I've set up an appointment with Dumbledore and Longbottom tomorrow evening so you can hear what it's like to be attacked by Voldemort and his supporters." _How did Moody found out about that?_ Harry thought. _Hermione and Ron weren't seen by anyone._

"But, Professor I already know sort of what it's like," Harry retaliated. "I don't want Neville to have to tell me what happened if he doesn't want to."

"You've made narrow escapes. Longbottom almost didn't escape. Besides, he evidently came to Dumbledore just a couple days ago and said that he thought you might want to hear about it."

Stunned, Harry asked, "Why?"

"He knows you're training to become an Auror. He knows the prophecy. He knows what it's like to grow up without parents." Harry hadn't thought of that. "Plus this summer when our Auror guard was watching Neville, we saw him practicing tons of spells to deflect the Dark Arts extremely diligently after his seventeenth birthday."

"The D.A.," Harry said, proud of what he had started.

"Exactly. Longbottom remembers those spells you taught him, and he will definitely be an asset to our cause against Voldemort." Moody walked across his office and stared into his Foe Glass. Taking a deep breath, he turned around again to look at Harry. "Frank and Alice Longbottom were right up there in the top tier in the original Order of the Phoenix. They became friends with your parents especially after they all completed their training to become Aurors, and together the Potters and the Longbottoms were our greatest weapon. Unfortunately, Voldemort's Death Eaters as well as himself forced both couples into hiding: the Potters with their young son Harry and the Longbottoms with their young son Neville."

"Neville's parents were in hiding too?"

"Yes. Don't know how Voldemort found where they were, but he did and he tortured them until it caused permanent brain damage. He would have eventually killed them if I hadn't stepped in at the right moment." Harry could see a flood of emotion crossing Moody's face. He couldn't help but to feel sorry for the scarred Auror. "So tomorrow night then, Potter. 8:30 or so in Dumbledore's office?"

"Yeah. Sounds great." With that he left the room, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. He never really considered Neville's situation much until just then. Of course, he had seen a picture of his classmate's parents in their youth, and he had seen them in person as well in St. Mungo's only a year and a half ago, but it didn't really sink in what happened to them until Moody explained it a bit. Truthfully Harry did not want to go to hear Neville's story the next day. He knew it would dig up old memories for Neville of his parents and it would only remind him that they were permanently unable to do anything by themselves and would spend the rest of their life in St. Mungo's. Harry didn't feel at all special for surviving Voldemort's curse and losing his parents. He couldn't even remember them while Neville had to face the fact that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had ruined his life every day. Not feeling remotely better about himself, Harry found himself wandering in the direction of the library instead of towards the common room. He almost ran headlong into Luna Lovegood.

"Oh, hello Harry," she said wistfully. "Out for a nighttime stroll?"

"No, just getting back from an Auror session."

"Oh, I see." Harry realized her overly magnified eyes didn't even seem odd to him anymore. "You look distressed," she added.

"Maybe a bit…" Harry found himself explaining everything to Luna: including his opinions of Neville's situation. "…I mean I'm nothing special. I only survived that curse because my mum died to save me."

Luna listened intently as they wandered through the emptying corridors. She nodded understandingly. "You must remember, Harry, that the fact that you didn't die of that curse just because of your mother died out of love doesn't make you a helpless wizard. Take the D.A. for example. Look what you started just by teaching a few of us how to defend ourselves. Now it seems like practically half the school is trying to learn those charms and curses. You're bright, intelligent, strong, and determined. That should count for something."

Harry felt like a load had been taken off his shoulders. "Thanks, Luna," he said as she turned to walk through a door in order to get to the Ravenclaw common room.

"Anytime." She waved him off and proceeded through the door.


	9. Neville's Story

_Chapter 9_

_Neville's Story_

The next day Harry told Hermione and Ron that he would have to go and talk to Moody again for another training session. Half true: he _was_ going to talk to Moody, but it wasn't necessarily about his training. He didn't want to lie to his best friends, but didn't want to talk about Neville without him knowing about it either. He wandered out of the dormitory and towards Dumbledore's office after supper. He wasn't in a hurry to get there, even though he knew they were probably all already waiting for him.

He rarely took the time to think about how Neville got through everything, with his parents there physically, but incapable of taking care of him. To tell the truth, Harry thought his classmate deserved more of the sympathy than he, Harry Potter did. He hadn't even known his parents while Neville…well, Neville had to live with the fact that even though they were still alive, neither Frank nor Alice Longbottom would ever be able to take care of him the way real parents would. _He must have had to grow up too fast for his liking_, Harry thought. _Even with his grandmother there, it wouldn't be the same_.

All too soon, Harry found himself face to face with the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. "Uh—" Harry mumbled. He realized at that moment that he didn't know the password.

"There you are, Potter, we were starting to worry about you," came Moody's raspy voice. Before he knew it, the gargoyle had sprung open. "Come on in."

Dreading what was at the top of the rotating staircase, Harry hopped onto a step next to Moody. He would rather face a hundred dementors than make Neville recall his attack and his past.

"There you are, Harry. Good, time to get started then. Thank you, Alastor." Moody growled and sat in a straight-backed chair next to Dumbledore. Neville was facing the headmaster, a steaming cup of cocoa in front of him. He turned around to face Harry. The expression was heartbreaking.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, his voice cracking only slightly. All Harry could do in return was nod his head.

"Sit down, Harry. Now, you are aware of Neville's attack this summer, correct?" Dumbledore knew that Ron and Hermione had overheard the conversation during the summer about Neville's attack. _He probably told Moody about it too_, Harry thought.

"Yes." He couldn't face Neville. Not with the memories he would have to recollect.

"Now, Neville, you are aware that Harry is training to become an Auror upon graduation from this school?"

"Yes."

"We're here under your suggestion, Neville. You may proceed when you're ready."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Neville's chest heave with a deep sigh. "I've never truly known my parents. Sure, they're still alive, but they will spend the rest of their lives in St. Mungo's. I've never known a life outside of that of my grandmother's house. She has shown me pictures of when they were in their prime and fighting for the Order of the Phoenix, but it wasn't the same. I lived a life almost like yours Harry: alone, stuck with my relative, parents as good—as good as—dead." At this Neville croaked. His voice cracked and became high pitched.

"You don't have to do this you know, Neville," Harry found himself protesting. "I know what it's like to encounter Voldemort—it really isn't necessary," he added quickly.

Looking back at him, Neville sent out a sheer look of determination, even more so than when he had his Quidditch tryout. "Yes, Harry, I'm afraid it _is_ necessary. You've always slipped away at the last minute. I wouldn't be here right now if the Aurors didn't come to help me. Besides, I could provide an asset to you if you let me."

"Sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. Harry hadn't realized that he had stood up, so he sat down again, very slowly.

"It didn't really hit me that my life was that different than my peers until I came to Hogwarts for our first year. Everyone else had their parents at the platform while I only had my grand-mum in her hat with the stuffed vulture. I had never really shown much magical talent, unlike both of my parents. Grand-mum was afraid I was a Squib—we were both relieved when I got the Hogwarts acceptance letter." He took a deep breath. "My life at school really wasn't much different than my life at home. I had some friends like you, Harry, and Hermione and Ron and Ginny and everyone else. I spent my life away from the limelight, away from publicity, as different a life from Harry Potter as one can be.

"I didn't mind sticking to the shadows; I had gotten used to being at the tail end of classes and living an invisible. Life was fine until fifth year came along and Harry taught us Defense Against the Dark Arts in what we called 'Dumbledore's Army', or the D.A." He looked from Moody to Dumbledore curiously.

"We are aware of that, Longbottom. Continue," Moody growled.

"My vengeful feelings against Voldemort resurfaced. I remembered my parents, stuck in St. Mungo's forever. Harry had started that Defense Against the Dark Arts league, and I knew I could do it. I was determined to live up to the expectations from my family to do well. So, after learning the spells a year and a half ago, I practiced them diligently at school because I knew I couldn't practice over the summer last year. This year, however, I turned seventeen, and I practiced the hexes and charms like there was no tomorrow. I also hopped on Dad's old broomstick when grand-mum wasn't looking, so I could practice Quidditch."

Dumbledore smiled. "Frank Longbottom was always a great Quidditch player. He could have played as Beater for Ireland if he had wanted to, but he insisted on helping me and the Order."

"I was tired of being the klutzy one, tired of getting laughed at for my quirks, and tired of not fulfilling my family's wishes. They all want me to be just like Dad: strong, talented, and intelligent. They want someone just like Harry here." Feeling himself blush, Harry looked at the floor briefly. Neville continued: "I tried my hardest last year to get any extra practice for spells in whenever I had extra time, knowing that for half the summer I wouldn't be able to practice them. I noticed my grades slightly improving in most of my classes, so I was bound and determined to keep on improving them. When I got home for the summer, I kept on counting down the days until my birthday in July so that I could keep on practicing every day.

"The day of my birthday I just practiced and practiced, keeping my parents' memory in my head at all times. Some days my grand-mum would take me to St. Mungo's to see them. I would only talk to them quietly about what I was trying to do with Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts whenever grand-mum walked out of the room to get some coffee or talk to a Healer. She had seen how clumsy I could get when it comes to magic. If I just stepped near a broomstick I used to trip over my own two feet and fall flat on my face. She wouldn't have approved of what I was trying to do. Mum and Dad, on the other hand, couldn't retaliate because of their—status." Neville gulped. Another wave of sympathy coursed through Harry. "They would be the only ones who would be proud of my efforts.

"Now, my grandmother was proud of my parents' story. She would tell anyone who stood still long enough about it and how brave and courageous they had been in their youth. I, on the other hand, haven't ever told anyone about it. Well, until today. It wasn't because I wasn't proud of what my parents had done, I just was afraid that their insanity would lead to more jokes and teasing directed towards me. I saw Harry and Hermione and Ron at St. Mungo's once during the Christmas holiday. They saw the state of mind my parents were in, and my grandmother told them how my parents became estranged like that."

"So tell us about the day you were attacked, Neville," Dumbledore said kindly.

"Yes, well I was practicing one afternoon in the middle of August when grand-mum was out shopping. Someone banged on the front door and before I knew it I was surrounded by Voldemort and two of his Death Eaters. They asked me if I was Frank and Alice Longbottom's son. I said yes. Although I was afraid, I didn't want fear to get in the way. They taunted me. I tried to defend myself, but my spells were still too weak. The used the Crucius Curse on me to get me to talk about Professor Dumbledore's secret group of Aurors, but I refused."

Not able to control himself, Harry spit out, "They know about the Order?"

"They've known we have a secret group of defenders for years, but they haven't done anything about it," Moody said, grinning his crooked grin. "We're just too well hidden for them to find us. Don't worry, Potter, you're completely safe."

"The pain worsened, since they wanted me to tell them where the Order of the Phoenix was hidden, or anything else I knew about it. I still wouldn't talk. They would have killed me if it hadn't been for Professor Moody here, who chased them all off." So Moody had saved Neville's life…Harry tried to think of time when Moody hadn't been at Grimmauld Place, but couldn't recall a moment when Moody wasn't prowling the hallways and rooms of Number Twelve. "He took me to St. Mungo's where they quickly resuscitated me." Harry could tell this was hard for Neville to remember. He instinctively put a comforting hand on his classmate's shoulder in the same manner Sirius had done for him in this same office. Neville looked at it for a second and then continued. "I was there for about a week and a half. Professor Dumbledore came to visit me, and he told me I had extraordinary courage to face Voldemort and his supporters alone. Also he told me about the Order of the Phoenix and how they had regrouped only two years before. It has just given me more reason to study and practice those spells Harry had taught us. And here I am now, part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and still working hard at those spells. If ever I encounter those Death Eaters again I'll be ready."

He fell silent. Harry looked at the floor. At the D.A. meetings during their fifth year, Harry had been aware that Neville worked twice as hard as most people, but he hadn't known how much he had taken it to heart. Harry felt stronger in a way, like he had an ally—and someone who shared his burden of growing up without parents. Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who was looking intently at him. The old man's eyes swerved to look at Neville's defeated form; after the completion of his story he began looking off into the distance at the gadgets on a table behind Dumbledore. Harry knew for a fact that Neville wasn't examining the gadgets. "Thank you, Neville for willing yourself to share your story with us," Dumbledore said quietly. "Now I suggest you boys go back to your dormitory and finish up any unfinished assignments you may have. Alastor, I would like to talk with you before you go. Good night, Neville, Harry."

"Good night, sir," Harry said. All Neville could do was grunt.

The two boys walked out of Dumbledore's office together in silence. They walked through the nearly deserted hallways and towards the common room. Neville didn't say anything until they were halfway there. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said faintly. His eyes still gazed straight ahead.

Harry turned his head to face his classmate, surprised. "For what?"

"That I didn't talk to you about my parents earlier." He looked over at his classmate, his eyes not shedding a tear, but filled with pain. "I could have talked to you, we could have helped each other through…everything. Living knowing that Voldemort is still out there, knowing that he changed your parents' lives and your life forever, and having to face that every day."

"I don't blame you for not telling me," Harry said quickly, "you have so much more to deal with than I do. Your parents are still alive. I never knew mine, so it is easy for me to accept the fact that they're gone and have been gone for sixteen years."

"You're so much smarter than me, Harry."

Chuckling, Harry said, "That's Hermione you're confusing me with. She's the one with the quick wit. Without her I definitely wouldn't be where I am today." A small grin crossed Neville's face as they turned towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry knew now that he respected Neville twice as much as he ever did, and the two befriended each other once again, a bond stronger than time can tell.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to bug you again, but what do you think??? I am so curious to know if people like it or not. I…well…haven't been getting any reviews! I know I'm getting rather bossy here, but if you're a writer yourself and have ever had an idea which you think is brilliant and you really want to see if others like it or not (such as my little twist involving Neville), you know my dilemma. OK, OK, I hear you: I'll get back to my own writing/proofreading before this ickle little "author's note" ends up longer than my chapter…


	10. Secrets Untold

_Chapter 10_

_Secrets Untold_

Harry couldn't fall asleep after hearing Neville's story. He had tried to finish up his assignments, but nothing could hold his concentration for very long. Neville had headed straight up to their dorm upon entering the common room. Most people had already gone upstairs to sleep—including Hermione and Ron—but Harry thought it best if he stayed up and thought about what he had just learned for a while. His homework remained unfinished downstairs on the table next to the fireplace still, but as he realized how little he would get done, he had climbed the stairs. Now he wished he were downstairs again, or even better yet, talking to Sirius. The one person he could really talk to, heart to heart and man to man, he couldn't talk to. At least, not unless he asked Dumbledore to perform that complex spell he learned about last year. Sighing, Harry slipped into his pajamas and walked over to the window of his dormitory to look out over the Hogwarts grounds. Surprisingly, Hagrid's light was still on in his hut, but Harry knew he would have good reason for it. Unaware of the time, he tried to lie back down and sleep. The four other boys were already snoring or breathing deeply, but Harry just seemed to be getting more and more awake as time progressed.

He lay staring at the top of his four-poster for a little over an hour before he just gave up and dug out his old Invisibility Cloak and Firebolt from his trunk from next to his bed. As quietly as he could, he slipped the cloak on, took his broom under his arm, and silently walked out the door, back down to the common room, and out the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was too drowsy to even notice Harry leaving. "G'night, dear," she mumbled as she fell back into her sleepy haze.

Harry just needed to _think_. He hadn't had the chance to even process what Neville had told him. They were so much alike. In a way Voldemort killed Frank and Alice Longbottom even more so than he killed James and Lily Potter. Neville had been attacked this summer. _Why?_ That was one thing Harry couldn't seem to understand. Was it out of lust for power? Was Voldemort actually afraid of Neville and his abilities? Harry couldn't seem to place why. He felt a sudden chill, like an icy wind prodding his body. He had never thought that anyone would understand what he had gone through and here…here Neville had been in the same predicament all the while and Harry hadn't even thought of it. A sickened feeling built up in Harry's stomach.

Eventually his feet carried him down to the Quidditch pitch. Aware that he shouldn't be outside the castle at 2 o'clock in the morning, he tossed his cloak aside, seized his broomstick, and started flying through the air. Flying took his mind away from everything, cleared his thoughts, and just made him feel at home. He made a couple laps around the pitch, trying to beat his best time during each lap. Here he felt at home…here was his sanctuary…here he could just be free…

"Potter, come down here, please." Harry recognized the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall, a bit exhausted, but still with the same sharpness as it always had. Harry felt his heart sink. He was caught. Dejectedly he sank towards solid ground.

Professor McGonagall stood there, right in the middle of the field, watching Harry gracefully dismount his broomstick. "Can't sleep?" she asked. Harry merely nodded his head. She was dressed with a cloak over a rather old pink bathrobe and nightdress. "Come over here," she said, nodding towards a bench near the entrance to the stands. Harry obeyed. He eyed her closely. Her face seemed to be carved with age; her graying hair flew freely in the wind, let down from its confining bun at last. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with traces of hope, grief, despair, sadness, and reluctance as her eyelids drooped with fatigue. Harry then saw something he had never really seen in Professor McGonagall: compassion. The professor took in a deep sigh before beginning. "You don't know what to feel, do you, Harry?" He looked down at the grass and merely nodded. "Despair, grief, anguish, misery, sad for Neville's loss, angry and frustrated at Voldemort's near rise to power, and a little hope for at long last defeating the Dark Lord."

Harry looked up. How did she know? She met his gaze, her eyes filled with an indescribable grief, the exact same one he was feeling at that same moment. "Harry, I've had the privilege to teach both of your parents when they attended Hogwarts. There were no two better people in the world. True, your father always seemed to catch me off guard with his pranks, but both Lily and James were exceedingly smart and talented." She fell silent for a brief time, but then continued. "Potter, there is something that you would probably like to know about my life—something I haven't told anyone except for Dumbledore about. A long, long time ago my parents were once Aurors. They would put their lives on the line every day just to keep everyone else safe. The thing is, they themselves died at the hand of Voldemort when I was only nineteen years old. He was still known as Tom Riddle back then…" her voice started to crack; this was definitely a side of McGonagall that Harry had never seen before. "Tom was only a couple years older than me. I had known who he was as I passed through my years at Hogwarts, but never did I consider the fact that he would murder my parents." Harry sat up straighter. This was obviously quite hard for his professor to share, so he kept quiet.

"I never quite knew how brave my parents were until after they had died. I didn't know what sacrifices they were making just to make it safe for witches and wizards around the world to live in peace and harmony. I had just gotten out of school a couple of years before. Dumbledore was working on getting me a teaching position, but instead I told him that I would strive to become an Auror first, just like my parents had been. He understood, so I worked as an Auror for the Ministry for about ten years before I became a teacher here at Hogwarts, my home." At this point, she was close to tears. Harry felt awkward, but just sat there, gazing at McGonagall with a dumbfounded stare. "My family was one of the first to be destroyed at Tom Riddle's hand." She took in a shaky breath. "Harry, you are one of the brightest students of your class. Somehow you have managed to keep up your grades while taking charge of the Quidditch team in addition to adding on this large workload of Auror training. That in itself proves your worth. There is no better person in the world who would be able to shoulder this burden." She turned to him and put a strong hand on his shoulder, managing to smile slightly. "But for now, I would suggest you return to your dormitory and get some more rest. You'll feel better in the morning. Good night, Potter."

"Good night, Professor McGonagall." With that, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the castle. Harry soon did the same. He was not alone.


	11. Lies and Deceit

_Chapter 11_

_Lies and Deceit_

Throughout the next couple weeks, Harry doubled his efforts in his classes. He finished his homework a week in advance, he studied for hours at a time for his tests, and he even was doing well in Potions. Even Hermione was impressed at his effort.

"Harry, I've never seen someone work so hard before," she said in awe. "Why the sudden change of pace?"

Looking up at her from behind an immensely tall stack of books, Harry remained silent. He didn't want to share Neville's burden just yet. Especially not without Neville's permission. Harry managed a wry smile. "You know, have to keep up with my classes!" He chuckled, excused himself from the conversation, and pored over his books again. Hermione gave him a strange look, and Ron was unable to hold his comments in.

"You're working harder than even Hermione, Harry! Don't you think it's time for a break?" His face hopeful, the redhead held out a deck of Exploding Snap cards. Hermione shot him a leave-him-alone-he's-just-trying-to-study look. "What? Just trying to cheer him up, that's all…" With that, Ron turned to Seamus and Dean to start a game of cards.

When Harry refused to go to Hogsmeade the next weekend because he was going to study his Auror stuff, even Hermione looked worried. "Look, Harry," she said, "there will be time to study later. Why don't we just take a trip down to Honeydukes this morning and then we can come back this afternoon and you can continue studying?" Hermione cooed.

"No can do, Hermione. After this I have to look over my Quidditch stuff to make some new plays for the team to practice. Then I have a Potions paper that I should get started on…"

Evidently, Harry's two best friends weren't going to take no for an answer. Ron physically dragged him off of his chair and Hermione shut his books and put them in neat piles as Ron dragged an unwilling Harry out the portrait hole. "You need to have some fun in your life, mate. I never thought I'd live to see the day when you would pass up Honeydukes for Potions."

In the end, Harry was glad that Hermione and Ron dragged him away from his workload. He hadn't realized how much he was disengaging himself from them. Stretching his legs beneath their table in the Three Broomsticks, he laughed good-naturedly at Ron's sarcastic comments and relaxed with a flask of butterbeer sitting in front of him. Ron glanced over at Hermione who had stiffened. "Anything wrong, Hermione?" he asked, taking a long draw from his flask.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, guys," she said, her eyes narrowing as she watched four figures make their way across the pub and towards the corner of the room. Looking closer, Harry noticed that it was Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy's father, Lucius.

"What are they doing here?" Ron asked loudly.

"Shh, Ron," Hermione cautioned. "I'm going to slip over there and see what they're up to," she said as she slipped off her chair and across the crowded room.

"Hermione, you're mad!" Harry whispered frantically after her. She just waved halfheartedly back at him as they watched in anguish as she crossed the room towards the newcomers.

"She'll be caught trying to listen to their conversation!" Ron squeaked in Harry's general direction. Harry shook his head.

"She's too smart, too cunning to be caught. Like an Auror." He watched as his friend mingled among their classmates as she struck up conversation with Lavender Brown and Parvati and Padma Patil. She appeared to be talking animatedly with them as she sat down in the chair closest to the table next to her. Harry saw her chuckle and adjust her seat so that she could be closer to Malfoy. One falter in her apparently glowing face gave Harry a sinking feeling. It could only mean one thing: something bad was about to happen. Hermione began chatting with Lavender and the Patil twins again briefly before standing up and excusing herself from their table. She quickly maneuvered through the crowd to get to Ron and Harry. Her ashen face told them all they had to know.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A rather short chapter for me, but I've been doing a bit of experimenting lately. Took me a while to crank out this puppy since I've been up to my ears in homework and other school stuff with barely enough time to sleep. Hope I left you hanging enough to keep you intrigued…and, as always, please send reviews my way.


	12. Sacrifice

_Chapter 12_

_Sacrifice_

The trio hurried out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the snowy street, hurriedly throwing their cloaks over their shoulders to block out the chilling wind. Hermione was still extremely flustered. "You'll never guess what those…"—she used a term that made even Ron gawk at her, impressed—"…are trying to do!" Harry hadn't seen her in such a huff since when she punched Malfoy because of Buckbeak in their third year. "They're going to…they're going to try and…and _attack_ Neville again!" Her frustration was combined with tears at this point. "And then they said something about meeting the Death Eaters here at Hogwarts."

"That's impossible!" Ron burst out. "Someone would be bound to see a bunch of robed evil-doers all with hoods over their heads."

"Ron, Sirius got into the castle when we were in third year, remember?" Harry said hollowly. His body felt numb. This couldn't be happening!

"But Sirius was an _Animagus_!" He paused. "Wait, what if all the _Death Eaters_ are Animagi?" Ron looked around fearfully.

"Don't be stupid, Ron," Hermione said. "What I want to know is how Lucius and Draco Malfoy are both managing to stay out of trouble. Isn't the Ministry supposed to be keeping an eye on them?"

"Slippery little blood-sucking…" Ron kept on mumbling as they bowed into Honeydukes.

"Listen, if there's anything we should do, it's try and keep a close eye," Harry told his two colleagues amidst the jumble of students in the sweet shop. "What we _don't_ want to do is get into trouble with the Malfoys."

"But Neville—" Hermione started.

"Yeah, mate, your life is in danger too, you know."

"Listen, we've faced this situation before, right? At this point I'm not exactly afraid of these life threats." He looked down at the tub overflowing with Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, not seeing all the different colors and flavors, but rather, thinking about Sirius, his parents, and what it would mean if he died and Voldemort didn't.

Hermione and Ron looked at him in shock. "Harry, this is serious. Neville's involved now and…well the prophecy lies in your hands," Hermione said slowly.

Harry breathed in deeply. He turned from the barrel and looked at his two friends with sincerity. They both had fear in their eyes, a fear that Harry knew well. "I'm not afraid to die as long as Voldemort dies with me," he said quietly. The other two remained silent.

"Harry, your life..."

"Your parents and Sirius wouldn't want you to sacrifice your own life, mate…"

Harry's face lost all emotion. He began talking, the evenness of his tone surprising even him, "Do you know what life would be like if Voldemort lived? Do you know how the world would change? Well do you?" Hermione and Ron's faces showed a clear misunderstanding. "Anguish, despair, murders in the street, even Muggles running for their lives. Dumbledore wouldn't have control anymore, oh no…Hogwarts would be a school of the Dark Arts which produced Death Eaters every year at an increasingly alarming rate. We wouldn't be learning how to counter the Dark Arts, we'd be learning how to conduct them. The Ministry of Magic becomes corrupted where people who try to revolt are tortured to the death. We wouldn't worry about Quidditch anymore; it will all seem so trivial compared to the magnitude of power Voldemort will hold throughout the world. If that means I have to sacrifice myself so that he'll die too…so be it. My parents would want me to give my life for that. I don't have anything to live for after this anyway." There was a long awkward pause as Harry wandered over to look at the new fudge in the glass cabinet. Ron and Hermione looked at each other uneasily. They walked over to their friend.

"Harry, _we_ care about you," Hermione choked out, putting her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "That should merit something." Ron just stood aside awkwardly.

Stiffly, Harry still stared at the fudge, tears of frustration filling his brilliant green eyes. He wiped them away angrily. Fortunately the shop was still full of bustling students so no one noticed. "I know you guys care about me, but it isn't the same without Sirius. I could have lived without my parents because I had never known what it was like to have them there with me. But Sirius…he was the only father I've ever known."

"What about Lupin?" Ron burst out from Harry's left side.

Still staring, Harry didn't know what to say. True, Lupin had taken up Sirius' position of Harry's guardian, but there was no way to replace James Potter's best friend. He shook his head. "It's not the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Potions homework to finish." With that, Harry shuffled out of the sweet shop and trudged up the hill towards Hogwarts again, leaving his confused friends behind standing at the fudge counter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmmm…I'm sensing some _Hamlet_-like references in this piece… Another short one, but as always, please leave a review!


	13. A Proposition

_Chapter 13_

_A Proposition_

"Potter, I would like for you to meet someone," McGonagall told Harry immediately the next morning when he got down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Behind her was a tall man with brilliant blue eyes who was eyeing Harry intently, a smile spread across his face. He couldn't be over twenty-one years of age. "This is Adrian Berkley," she said, gesturing to the man. "Berkley, this is Harry Potter."

He stepped forward. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Harry!" he said, grabbing Harry's hand with a strong grip and shaking it.

"Aren't you from…?"

"Berkley here is from England's Quidditch team, Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted, excitedly. "He's here to watch you play in practice as well as your match against Ravenclaw on Saturday." She was practically bouncing on her heels as she looked back and forth between Harry and Berkley a faint smile traipsing over her face. Regaining her composure, she smoothed down her hair and said breathlessly, "I'd better let you two talk," as she rushed back up to the staff table.

"A private word then, Harry?" Adrian asked courteously. Nodding, Harry followed him out into the entrance hall with the entire Great Hall buzzing behind him. Diehard Quidditch fans said excitedly, "That's _Berkley_, that is! England's team wouldn't be the same without him." Or the girls swooning, "Isn't he just so _gorgeous_?"

Harry took the time to eye the Quidditch player closer as they walked out of the Great Hall. He had an athletic build and was well over six feet tall—Harry guessed about 6'4"—with dark brown, almost black hair that seemed to keep on falling naturally into his brilliant blue eyes. Berkley flicked his head to the side in an attempt to get it out of his face to no avail. Sighing, he gave up. "Never in my lifetime did I think that I would be the one to recruit Harry _Potter_," he said, grinning. "You're already more famous than England's entire team." His eyes immediately flicked up to Harry's forehead. When he saw Harry's annoyed expression he added, "My apologies, Potter. Can't help but gawk." He grinned, revealing pearly white teeth.

"I get it all the time," Harry replied miserably.

"I bet you do…I bet you do. Now, back to business. Your Quidditch skills, to put it lightly, have caught our attention. You have been on your house team since your first year?"

"Yeah."

"Good, good…and you're captain this year?"

"Uh huh. Last year too."

"Wonderful. How interested would you be to play Quidditch as a career, Harry?"

Harry thought a minute. Although he knew becoming an Auror was destined for him that was only until he defeated Voldemort. There were other things in the world that he could do. "To tell you the truth, I haven't really thought about my life beyond Hogwarts," Harry said to Berkley. "I've had…well, other things on my mind."

Adrian gave him a look of pity. "So I've heard. But after _that_ would you be interested?"

"Most definitely," Harry said, excited. "You get sick of thinking about Voldemort all day every day."

Berkley cringed slightly, but not nearly as much as he would have if it had been two or three years ago. "I won't press that matter. We would love for you to join our team ince this year will take a toll on us, especially at the Seeker position. Melanie Hargis has decided that she's getting too old for playing Quidditch professionally, so she's retiring after this year." Harry had heard that. Hargis had been a key to England's success in their last five seasons.

"I heard about that."

Berkley looked like he was drifting off into deep thought before he continued. "Now, I intend on watching your practice tonight and Friday night, as well as your match on Saturday. I've obviously heard a lot about your playing, but I would love to see it firsthand. From what I've heard you're an outstanding Quidditch player, Harry."

"You are too, Mr. Berkley."

Adrian Berkley flinched slightly. "Just call me Adrian, Harry. Please. I hate all that 'Mr. Berkley' stuff."

"OK, Adrian," Harry repeated.

"That's better." The young man flashed another one of his smiles at Harry. He then looked up and around at the castle. "Not long ago I walked through these halls as a student here," Adrian said, sighing. "These were some of the best times of my life, right here at Hogwarts. I graduated four years ago." Harry's estimates were right: twenty-one years old.

Harry perked up. "Then I should have known you."

Adrian shook his head. "I was in Ravenclaw. You might have played Quidditch against me once or twice, but it was one of those things where I knew you, the famous Harry Potter, and you didn't know me. Anyway, I'd better let you go. I'll be seeing you tonight then?"

"Yes, most definitely."

"I look forward to it. I have some business to attend to at the moment. See you, Harry!" He turned and walked off in the general direction of the Owlery.

"Bye."

As Harry walked back into the Great Hall, most of the female population turned their heads in hopes of catching a glimpse of Berkley. Their faces fell upon seeing only Harry walk back through the doors and they turned back to their food. Ron was chuckling as he walked back towards the Gryffindor table. "Better watch out, Harry, or Berkley's going to take over your position of most popular in the school!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I based Berkley off of one of the pretty darn good-lookin' soccer players at my school. Hope you enjoy! 


	14. A Task Completed

_Chapter 14_

_A Task Completed_

Adrian Berkley became the new favorite conversation topic at Hogwarts. During meals he would sit up at the head table on Dumbledore's left side, so he was in full view of all the students. Harry caught Parvati and Lavender more than once sitting as close as they could to the front of the room and craning their necks in a very noticeable manner trying to get a full view of Berkley. Hermione huffed every time she overheard girls talking giddily about him. "Just because he's _famous_," she'd say as a rather large posse followed him out of the Great Hall after supper that night.

"I've heard that before," Ron said, grinning ear to ear.

"When might that have been?" Hermione shot back angrily.

"Oh, I don't know…three years ago when a certain international superstar of a Quidditch player was here for the Triwizard Tournament… Look how _that_ ended up."

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione glared at Ron as he looked back at her innocently. "I wouldn't mess with Hermione if I were you," Harry whispered in Ron's ear.

"I've got to go finish up some homework," Hermione almost hissed back at the two. "So excuse me."

"Well, I think I'm going to head out to practice early tonight," Harry said as he stood up from his seat.

"Yeah, I'll follow you in a few minutes," Ron replied, still seething at Hermione.

"See you then."

Harry traipsed up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. He ran up the steps to his room two at a time, grabbed his Firebolt, and ran back downstairs. The team hadn't practiced since last week, so he was anxious to fly again. Finding his way down to the Quidditch pitch, he found that he was not alone. It appeared that the secret had leaked that Berkley was going to be watching Gryffindor's practice because approximately half of the girls in the school were already seated in the stands, buzzing with excitement. They all glanced at Harry as he entered the field, but quickly returned to their conversations when they saw it wasn't Berkley. Rolling his eyes, Harry jumped onto his broomstick and kicked off the ground. He flew high and low, diving and doing loop-the-loops, racing himself to the end of the field and back again. He saw a tall figure leaning up against the entrance to the pitch as he turned around to race back towards the opposite goalposts. Immediately he recognized Berkley's figure.

"Nice, very nice," Adrian said, impressed. "I remember playing against you so many years ago. You were good, but you've definitely improved since."

"Thanks, Adrian." Harry grinned. Finally something was going his way. Once Voldemort was out of the way he would play Quidditch professionally. He had never really wanted to become an Auror that much anyway.

"I see I've dragged my posse along with me," Berkley said, slightly annoyed and slightly amused as he glanced up at the stands. Every single eye appeared to be glued on him. "My apologies if it interrupts your practice."

"Oh, don't worry about them. They're too fixed on you to see anything that happens around them anyway."

"Thanks, Potter," Adrian said, grinning ear to ear. Harry could tell that he would get along splendidly with England's team at this rate. "Fame's a curse, I tell you."

"Don't I know it." Harry recalled when he first arrived at Hogwarts seven years ago: the entire school had looked at him as some kind of hero. His celebrity had been the talk of Hogwarts for months before it all settled down and they got used to him being at school. _How things have changed,_ Harry thought, smiling to himself.

"Well, it appears that the rest of your team has arrived," Berkley said upon seeing a small mass of six people walking towards the field. "Let's see what you can do."

Adrian was almost jumping up and down with excitement as the practice came to a close and he walked onto the field to meet Harry. "That was absolutely spectacular, Harry, absolutely marvelous! I've never seen anything like it…you just fit into your leadership role on the team so seamlessly…" Harry listened to him blabber on five minutes straight. "…after this performance today you're almost _guaranteed_ a spot on the team…wait until I tell the other guys, they'll so excited! Harry _Potter_ playing Quidditch for England!"

"I've got to go and hit the showers," Harry said, not sure if Berkley had heard him or not. Evidently he did, because as Harry walked in the direction of the locker rooms Berkley headed off towards the castle, still chanting, "Absolutely_ remarkable_…can't wait until the match on Saturday…" His posse followed close behind.

Grinning, Harry walked off towards the locker rooms. His heart was soaring. It had been just a simple practice, but he was probably going to have a spot on England's Quidditch team! Letting his mind wander to the summer before fourth year in the luxurious Top Box at the World Cup, he envisioned Ludo Bagman saying, "And I give you, _Potter_!" The entire stadium erupted in cheers as he sped onto the field, an array of lights in front of him…

"Harry! _Harry!_" Ron was standing right in front of him, his hands waving in front of Harry's face. Evidently he had reached the locker room, but it was already deserted except for him and Ron. "Dozing a bit are we?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said as he ran his hand through his hair so it stood on end.

"Well, you'd better clean up then. It's already getting pretty late and we still have that Charms homework yet."

"Right." The box of Quidditch balls was under Harry's arm. He walked into Madam Hooch's office and set it down. Ron looked like he was going to head out, but then he turned around.

"And Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"I really hope you get that Quidditch position. If anyone deserves it, it's you."

"Thanks, Ron." Harry smiled again, a genuine smile. He hadn't been this happy since…well, a long time ago. Not even the massive pile of homework awaiting him in the common room could drag him down.

Harry was willing to bet the entire school would show up to their Quidditch match against Ravenclaw on Saturday. Granted, half of them would be gawking at Berkley, but everyone was just so excited about it that Harry couldn't help but get caught up in the hype—mainly because he _was_ the hype.

McGonagall pulled him aside after his Transfiguration lesson on Friday. "Not nervous or anything, Potter? Any jitters?"

"Nervous?"

"Tomorrow's match." She looked twice as uneasy as Harry felt. When she felt his forehead to feel if he was feverish, he pulled away a bit.

"Listen, I appreciate your concern, Professor, but it's just a Quidditch match. There's nothing really _special_ about it."

"Potter, we haven't had a recruiter from England since Charlie Weasley. They only want the best. It'll be tough trying to win them over."

"Well…Wednesday's practice seemed to go pretty well. Berkley was practically jumping up and down with excitement."

"Good, good…but that still doesn't prove anything. You can never really tell with those recruiters! Just don't _expect_ anything, Potter."

"I won't, Professor."

"Good luck, Harry. I really hope you get this position." She took the time to flash him a rare smile.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." With that he left the room.

"…And again, Harry Potter is being observed during this game by none other than Adrian Berkley, star of England's Quidditch team!" Colin Creevey burst out excitedly. Harry silently groaned inside. Whose idea was it to hire Colin as Quidditch announcer anyway?

"Creevey, keep to the match!" McGonagall bellowed.

"Right you are, Professor, right you are…Ravenclaw in possession now…almost there…Ron Weasley makes yet another fantastic save!" The crowds burst out in exultation as Ron threw the ball back to his sister halfway down the field.

"Great save, Ron!" Harry yelled from above.

"Thanks, mate!"

"Gryffindor in possession…Ginny Weasley to Longbottom…back to Weasley…down to Amber Isaacson…back to Longbottom…GRYFFINDOR SCORES! Gryffindor in the lead, forty to ten." Harry grinned as his Chasers congratulated each other on their almost flawless Three Chaser Weave. Out of the forty points in favor of Gryffindor, Neville had scored thirty. Looking down at the Chasers again, Harry couldn't have been more proud.

The rest of the game passed quite smoothly. Harry made sure to show off some of his best flying moves, as he felt Berkley watching him. He wove between the goalposts, soared high up in the air and just let himself go. Filled with elation, he swerved to avoid a Bludger that had followed him up. He climbed a bit longer and then dove back to the ground. He heard Colin shouting, "Gryffindor leads, seventy to ten!" A sinking feeling hit Harry as he saw a tiny glint of gold just within arm's reach of the Ravenclaw Seeker. Seconds later and she would notice it, ending the match. Quickly, Harry launched himself forward on his Firebolt towards the opposite end of the field. The other Seeker quickly caught on, and followed him at top speed. Harry flew so close to the ground that the tips of his shoes skimmed over the dewy grass.

"Just a bit farther…" he muttered to himself under his breath. The crowd was going nuts as he leaned forward on his broomstick and quickly turned around to head top speed in the other direction. He showed off the versatility of his Firebolt as he swerved another Bludger, a goalpost, and Neville as he felt his hand close over the cold Snitch. Grinning widely, he soared up into the air and did a victory lap as the crowd went wild.

"Harry Potter catches the Snitch as Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley only allows ten points! Gryffindor wins, two hundred sixty to ten!" Harry felt the team closing in on him as they all thudded into him for a team hug.

As they floated towards the ground, Harry heard a distinct voice in his ear. "Well done, Harry. Your father would have been proud." None other than headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood next to Harry, grinning ear to ear.

"Thank you, sir."

"Spectacular, positively spectacular, Potter," Berkley told him, slapping him on the back as the entire crowd poured onto the field as if he had won the Quidditch Cup. "I've been told that there's a possible recruit at Beauxbatons, but I doubt anything could beat that…" Berkley carried on in a manner not unlike Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain for Gryffindor for Harry's first through third years.

Harry couldn't have been happier as he looked over towards the Forbidden Forest. He could have sworn he saw the back legs of a gigantic black dog diving into the trees.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmm…should probably update this more. Again, reviews would be appreciated. I need some new flare in here, but I'm not sure how to do that just yet…


	15. Revenge

_Chapter 15_

_Revenge_

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Prissy Perfect Potter to save the day for Gryffindor again." Harry groaned. He didn't want to face Malfoy now, but apparently he and Crabbe and Goyle had been waiting for him after the match.

Harry turned to look at them. "It wasn't _me_ who won the game, it was _Gryffindor_," he sneered.

"Nobility won't get you out of this, Potter. Just because you got on Adrian Berkley's good side doesn't mean you rule the world."

"I didn't say anything about Berkley. Malfoy, I really don't want to fight you. Just get out of my way."

"Is wee little Potter scared?" Malfoy asked, adopting a baby voice. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered in appreciation.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy." Neville. Harry closed his eyes. He really didn't want Neville to get involved.

Malfoy looked like Christmas had come early. "And what are you going to do about it, Longbottom? Come after me?"

Harry looked to his right where Neville was standing. His hair was damp and tousled from just coming out of the showers. Standing right next to him, Harry noticed a huge difference in his stature and poise as well as his height: for once Neville Longbottom was standing tall, broad shoulders almost menacing—but what really was menacing was the look in Neville's eye. It wasn't a look of hatred, rather, a look of disgust. "No, Malfoy. I'm above that, unlike you. What I'll do is I'll tell you what it's like to grow up without parents. I'll tell you what it's like to come home knowing that you don't have a mum or dad to welcome you. I'll tell you what it's like to go to the hospital every chance you get and see your parents in a vegetative state where they don't know who they are or who you are or where they are or what they're doing. I'll tell you about the fear that you wake up with, knowing that Voldemort practically killed your parents and he could be after you next." Neville wasn't crying, yet his voice was so full of emotion that Harry felt a tug at his heartstrings. The expression on Neville's face hadn't even changed.

Malfoy smirked. "Your parents were meddlesome fools. They deserved what they got, maybe even more so than Potter's here." He looked at Harry with a sneer. "That's the only reason you're famous, Potter, is because you finally defeated the ancient killing curse, when really it was just your mum who protected you. You're not all that special, you know…"

"Move aside."

"Or what, Longbottom? You'll give me another lecture? I'm afraid I can already go to McGonagall for that, or maybe Binns would be better…no one really likes McGonagall all that much anyway."

"C'mon, Neville, we don't have to listen to this." The two tried to go around Malfoy and his cronies, but were intercepted.

"Going so soon? We were just starting with our little conversation, weren't we, boys?" Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in an intimidating fashion.

"Step aside, Malfoy," Harry said.

"I'm afraid you'll have to fight your way past me, Potter. Like I said before we weren't done…" Malfoy never had a chance to finish his sentence, since Neville had punched him on his right cheekbone. He fell to the ground, clutching the right side of his face. Crabbe and Goyle had nothing to do but squat next to him and stare around dumbly.

"Like _I_ said before, Malfoy, stop bothering Harry, or else you'll have me to deal with. Let's go, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say. He followed Neville towards the castle and couldn't seem to find his voice until the halfway point. "Neville…how…how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Punch Malfoy! I mean, two years ago…you never would have done something like that…"

"Yeah, well, anger builds up. I've been wanting to do that since first year." He couldn't help but smile. "Got him pretty good, didn't I?"

"Really good, that is." Harry smiled. "I don't think he'll be bothering you for quite some time."

"That'll be a nice change…for once I'll finally be in control of that codfish."

"Codfish?"

Neville blushed slightly as he let a shy smile emerge. "It's what my grandmother calls people like Malfoy. I guess I picked up on it over the years."

"Yeah. Well, do you suppose they have a party going in the common room yet?"

"Most likely."

"You'll be the life of the party you know. Nine goals in one game…that's quite an accomplishment."

"I suppose. I couldn't have done it without you, though, Harry."

"You're the one who practiced so hard."

"But you're the one who finally gave me a chance. No one else would have even believed I could do it considering my past klutziness."

"You're giving me way too much credit, Neville. You believed in yourself first and that's what counted."

Neville managed a small smile as they climbed the steps into the castle. "D'you think my…my dad would be proud of me right now?"

"More than anything. Have you—er—told him about getting on the Quidditch team or anything?"

"No, not yet. You saw how little he and Mum respond to that time at St. Mungo's two years ago."

"I know, but just tell him about it. I'm sure both he and your mum would love to hear what you've been up to."

"Oh, I don't know…my grandmother really doesn't understand whenever I try to talk to them. She wants to go visit the hospital, but all we do is sit and stare at each other all the time."

"Then go without your grandmother. Hey, listen, if you want—if you want I'll go with you. You know, to tell them just how good you are at Quidditch."

"Would you really, Harry?"

Harry really wasn't sure why he'd offered to interfere with Neville's business, but evidently it was well received. "Of course." He smiled at his teammate and friend.

"That would be great. I know! We could go there on our broomsticks right after classes get out for the holiday season. The train doesn't leave until the next morning anyway, so my grandmother would never even know I went there!"

Harry still had his doubts about volunteering to go with, but Neville was so adamant that he couldn't bring himself to say no. "That's a good idea. We'd be back before dark if everything worked out right."

"So you really mean it? You want to come with?"

"Of course!"

"Thanks a lot, mate. You have no idea how much this means to me." Neville's grin was so broad that Harry just had to smile back. By then they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and were quickly ushered inside the common room where they were both guests of honor.

"Where did you two run off to?" Ron practically yelled in Harry's ear. "We were beginning to think you got lost."

"We ran into Malfoy." Hermione looked at Harry over Ron's shoulder and looked almost frightened. "Don't worry, Neville took care of him."

"Neville?"

"Socked him upside the head," Harry said proudly.

"That's wonderful!"

"Ron! It's against school rules!" Hermione hissed.

"Yeah, but Malfoy finally got what's been coming to him for the last seven years from _Neville_!" He glanced over at Neville Longbottom who was sitting rather uncomfortably in the middle of a giddy group of girls, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown among them.

"Oh, that was just an _amazing_ performance today, Neville!" Parvati swooned.

"Yes, how did you do it?" Lavender joined in. Harry could tell that Neville was rather tense, but soon managed to relax in his chair as he recollected all events that had happened that day happily. For once the crowd was larger around Neville than it was around Harry after a Quidditch match.

"I guess Berkley's interest in you has worn off," Ron said as they watched Neville's posse grow even bigger.

"I don't mind," Harry said haphazardly as he grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and some fudge from Honeydukes and leaned back into his chair. "It's nice for a change not to have to worry about remembering every split second in a match and every little move I made."

"That was a rather spectacular catch, though," Ron said happily. "Berkley sure seemed to be impressed with it."

"Yeah, but I'm not expecting much since he has a lead at Beauxbatons for the same position." It was a partial lie. True, Berkley had said that he had a lead at Beauxbatons, but Harry was expecting a lot more than he wanted to admit since at the end of the match Berkley _had_ said that there wasn't anyone like Harry and his performance was impeccable. Harry Potter was all but guaranteed a starting position on England's Quidditch team next year.

The trio enjoyed watching Neville try to remember every split second and every goal he had made. "And then I threw it back to Ginny…no, I didn't throw it to her, that was when I had to dodge the Bludger…and another player…wait, let me start over again! OK, so I rebounded the ball…"

Harry grinned. "He'll get used to it, believe me. Now, I think I'm going to head upstairs and get some of that Charms work done before we have to go eat."

"What?" Ron asked in shock. "Do mine ears deceive me? Dost thou say 'work' on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon?"

"I've really got a lot of work to do, Ron."

"That's what Sunday is for! And you still haven't recalled the exciting tale of every move you made out there on the pitch."

"Very funny, Ron." Harry stood up and walked away before anyone else could see him.

Harry fully intended to get a start on his Charms homework, but soon figured out the real reason why he had walked up to the dormitory was to be alone in order to think about Neville. What was the real reason behind him volunteering to go to St. Mungo's? The answer was so obvious that Harry couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before: he wanted Neville to get to know his parents, to really just sit down and talk to them because that was something Harry never had the chance to do with his parents. _It may be too late for me to tell my dad all about my Quidditch matches, but it sure isn't too late for Neville Longbottom_, Harry thought. Even though they probably wouldn't fully understand what he was saying, at least they would know that he cared enough to tell them about his life.

Voldemort had destroyed the Potter family, but Harry sure wasn't going to let him do the same to the Longbottoms. Content with his decision to help Neville, Harry dug the Charms book out of his bag and began to work feverishly. After all, the N.E.W.T. tests would be upon him before he knew it; passing enough of them meant an end to the Auror training was in sight.


	16. Back to St Mungo's

_Chapter 16_

_Back to St. Mungo's_

Before they knew it, the holidays had snuck up on Hogwarts. It was Monday: five days until the long-awaited Christmas break. Five days before Harry knew that he would go with Neville to visit his parents. The Christmas spirit filled the entire castle—Dumbledore had Christmas trees put up and decorated in the Great Hall, sprigs of mistletoe lining doorframes (Professor McGonagall was caught by Professor Flitwick one morning before breakfast in the entrance to the Hall, which resulted in a very flushed Transfiguration teacher), tinsel draped over the stairwells, and Christmas music seemed to fill the air wherever one went in the castle. Peeves the poltergeist had taken to haphazardly draping tinsel around himself and donning a party hat with a rubber chicken and numerous pompoms stuck to it. If you weren't careful, you could find yourself swinging through the air on the end of Peeves' tinsel. This happened to a poor second year girl the first day decorations were hung and Peeves wouldn't let her down until the entire school came out of the Great Hall and Dumbledore demanded he put her down or else Peeves would never see his party hat again.

As the crowd dispersed, Harry saw Filch talking to Dumbledore just in front of him. "Headmaster, this is finally our chance! Peeves is—and has been for quite some time I can assure you—been a menace and a danger to the student body. We must evict him at once."

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore laughed. "I'm sorry Argus, but I must disagree with you. Peeves is actually quite harmless. I must say I quite enjoy his spectacles; the amusement they produce is something this castle needs."

"But what he did to that girl just now! Surely that proves to you he's a menace!"

"It was all in the idea of good clean fun, Argus. And I do believe she is quite all right, aren't you, my dear?" He directed the conversation to his left where the girl who had just been swinging from a ten-foot long rope of tinsel was standing next to him. She looked quite green.

"Ye—ye—yes, s—sir," she sputtered out.

"See, Argus? Now, we must get on with lunch or else these students will have no time to get to their classes…"

Filch went off in the other direction, Mrs. Norris at his heels, muttering, "That rogue…swinging students now, are we? We'll get him, my sweet, don't doubt me on that…"

Ron and Harry laughed as they walked back into the Hall, but Hermione huffed as she scuffed along behind them. "Not something to laugh at, if I'm not mistaken," she said, disgruntled.

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione. She was all right in the end, wasn't she?"

"Yes, but something dangerous could have happened. She could have been injured or worse, _killed_."

Ron waved it off as the bowls in front of them magically filled with heaping piles of goulash. "Come on, if you follow the rules all the time, where would there be time for fun?" She was about to retort, but Ron had become much more interested in the food in front of him rather than their conversation.

"Hi, Mum, Dad," Neville said cheerfully as Harry and him entered the ward where Frank and Alice Longbottom resided. "Doing well?" Neville went over to kiss his mother on the forehead and pat his father on the back gently.

Harry cringed as the unrecognizable Longbottoms stared straight ahead, eyes glazed over. He felt out of place…why had he offered to come in the first place? He stood rather awkwardly as Neville conversed with his parents. "And there's someone I've brought with me today. You both probably know Harry Potter?"

Harry smiled as best as he could. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," he said, pulling up chairs for himself and Neville. He didn't feel so awkward as he saw both Frank and Alice's heads nod a bit in rocognition.

"You'll never guess what happened at school this year!" Neville said, clearly excited to disclose his news. "I made the Gryffindor Quidditch team! I practiced as hard as I could this summer and it paid off. Harry here is Captain of course. That was a given from the start. So I'm a Chaser now…"

Harry smiled at Neville as he watched him tell his parents all that had happened over the course of the past months. He gave them play-by-plays of his games: his favorite shots, how he had managed to get nine goals in one game, what practices were like. "But I really have Harry to thank for actually giving me a chance," Neville finished off.

"No, I shouldn't get any credit for what you've accomplished, Neville," Harry said quickly.

All Neville did was smile. "You're being modest, Harry."

"But Neville's one of the best Chasers I think Gryffindor has seen for a while, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. He's extremely dedicated, devoted, and always comes to practice enthusiastically. You should be very proud." He looked at the witch and wizard in front of him in turn. They were just about the same age that his parents would have been; yet they looked almost double that. Alice's hair was extremely thin, gray, and wispy; her face had become full of wrinkles and she both sat and stood in a rather hunched manner. Frank looked like he had started balding ten years too early, and his frame was frail as he hunched over in his chair even more so than his wife. Harry looked Frank Longbottom in the eye and almost cringed at what he saw in those steely blue depths: a faint, almost nonexistent life managed to surface, but otherwise Harry saw nothing behind them. Harry broke the gaze and turned to Neville. "Shall I get some tea?"

"Yes, I think that would be lovely," Neville said pleasantly. "Would you like some, Mum?" She silently nodded her head. "Dad?" He did the same.

"Four teas got it." Harry stood up and left the room. He shut the door behind him, leaning up against the wall and closing his eyes. What he saw behind Frank Longbottom's eyes…or rather, what he didn't see… It was so unfair how Neville had to deal with such pain and suffering and still handle the pressures of schoolwork and just life in general.

_Voldemort._

The whole reason behind this family split apart was Voldemort. Harry clenched his teeth. Never had he wanted to fulfill the prophecy so badly. Sighing, he walked in the general direction of the coffee shop to collect drinks for them all.

"Harry, we were starting to worry about you," Neville said as he entered the room again.

"No need, just got lost is all. Found my way all right in the end." Harry put down the tray bearing the teacups on a side table, offering them to the Longbottoms before taking one himself.

"We were just reminiscing about the D.A. from fifth year. Remember that, Harry?"

"How could I forget? It was such a pleasure to do something so _wrong_ right under Umbridge's nose." Harry smirked to himself. "I mean, it was wrong in Umbridge's eyes…really, we weren't doing anything bad."

"They know all about it; I told them in fifth year," Neville said proudly.

Of course. When Neville was finally starting to get good at something he would want to tell his parents. The conversation topic switched to N.E.W.T. courses and what Neville and Harry were planning on doing after their final days at Hogwarts. "I think I want to become an Auror," Neville announced proudly. "I know I'm not taking enough courses now to fulfill the requirements, but I'm sure that I could through the Ministry later on. They'd let me on, I'm sure of it."

"Especially with this Auror shortage," Harry added, sipping his tea.

"Exactly. I want to be just like you, Mum and Dad." The fierce pride that emerged from behind Neville's eyes actually made Harry shudder. "How about you, Harry? What are you going to do?"

"Well, I could take the test and actually become an Auror just weeks after graduation if I wanted to, but I really think I'll take up Adrian Berkley's offer and I'll probably end up playing Quidditch for England."

"Did you hear that, Dad? Berkley actually came to Hogwarts and watched Harry in practice and in our Ravenclaw game." Neville turned to Harry and explained. "He was actually in the same situation as you are now, although he chose the Auror route. Took three years of training, but it paid off for him in the end." Harry nodded and glanced outside at the sun, which was beginning to set.

"Neville, I hate to cut this short, but we have to get going if we're to get back on time."

"Right you are, Harry. I'll probably see you again in just a few days," he told his parents as he hugged them both. "Gran actually doesn't know I'm here at the moment, but I'm sure you won't tell her, will you? Bye."

"Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said, waving his hand as he walked out of the room with Neville at his heels. They were silent as they walked down the stairs and towards the exit. Right when they walked out the door, Neville collapsed against the walls of St. Mungo's and put his head in his hands. Harry turned in alarm. "You OK, Neville?"

"Yeah," came a shaky reply. "It's just…it was so nice of you to come and…and help me. I often wonder what it would be like to have them back again as they were so long ago." Harry saw silent tears flowing down Neville's cheeks. He sat down next to his friend and patted him on the shoulder.

"It really wasn't a problem, Neville."

"I…I guess I know that. I just wanted to tell you…to tell you thanks for being such a great friend. It means a lot to me." His smile was genuine and made Neville look mature.

Harry didn't know what to do but smile back. Who would ever be able to tell that this was the exact same clumsy Neville who kept on losing his toad on the Hogwarts Express in his first year?


	17. Erindring

_Chapter 17_

_Erindring_

"He was begging for mercy from me by the end. Wanted to save himself so that he could protect that little wretch Potter." She smiled maliciously. "Begged me to spare his life, the coward. Scared of death, even after thirteen years in Azkaban!"

Harry could see Bellatrix Lestrange standing in front of him, facing a shadow on the opposite side of the room. She completely ignored Harry. He could feel his emotions rising and he wanted to lunge at her, but felt his feet were planted firmly to the ground. He tried to yell, but found his jaws locked together. Instead, all he could do was listen and grimace.

"Bella, you know I've heard you recount this story a hundred times over, as well as witnessing it," a cold, bored voice came from the shadow. Harry knew it was Voldemort behind that shadow, but all he cared about was Bellatrix Lestrange. He tried to leap towards her, but found his feet practically plastered to the floor.

"Please, My Lord, please let me witness it one more time…"

"I don't think you deserve it."

"But I do…oh, I do, you have no idea how much I have sacrificed in the last year for the Death Eaters."

"Don't get me wrong, Bella, I have seen what you have given up for us. Your home, your family, your life savings... Although now I know that you need no home nor family nor even money for that matter, as we are your family and protection now."

"And always have been, My Lord." She bowed deeply and as she went down Harry could see her eyes hungry for the vision of the murder of his godfather once more.

"I do beg to differ, Bella, if you would allow me. There were times…yes, times where I sincerely doubted your cause. Times where you weren't even sure if I would ever come for you, to save you. You had doubt in me."

"But that is long gone, My Lord."

"I am not quite so sure…"

At this Bellatrix Lestrange did something Harry would have never thought he would see her do: she fell to her knees on the floor and started pleading at Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his robes repeatedly. "Please, Master! I beg of you, let me witness the death of my cousin one more time!"

Voldemort moved a bit out of the shadows and brushed the hem of his robe away from Bella's clambering fingers. He appeared to be contemplating the idea. "All right, Bella. I'll do it for you."

She straightened up at once. "Oh, thank you, Master! Thank you!"

Harry watched as Voldemort waved his wand in a slow circle three times and a bright, yet ice-cold blue flame-like substance began to rotate in front of him, the source coming from the tip of the wand. "Show us the death of Sirius Black." Immediately, the substance began to show a reflection of something, not unlike Dumbledore's Pensieve, although this time it played over again on the substance that had come out of Voldemort's wand (now forming an object similar to a mirror) rather than them literally falling into the memory. A memory that Harry knew all too well. He watched the screen where his godfather raced into the cavernous room with a herd of Aurors at his heels to help Harry. Harry knew that sound was playing, just like a television would in the Muggle world, but he didn't hear anything. He watched in horror as Sirius fought his way through the Death Eaters and all too soon had come face-to-face with Bellatrix Lestrange. Every little flick of Sirius' wand, Harry wanted to call out to warn him not to mess with her, but no sound came through the lockjaw. The scene seemed to play out in slow motion as Sirius and Bellatrix slowly moved closer and closer towards the veil. Then the moment came again: Harry saw a curse hit Sirius full-force on the chest and he barreled backwards through the veil. His godfather was gone once more.

The image began to fade. Harry moved his eyes to Bellatrix again, who was staring longingly at the great mass of fire in front of her and the fading image. "But, Master—"

"You do not want to again witness the torturing of Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

Harry was sickened by her reaction. She perked up immediately and looked longingly into the glassy blue substance with such hate and malice that Harry felt like he wanted to throw up. "Yes, Master. You are so kind…"

The fiery substance began to show another picture, one that Harry knew he would not want to see but would have to watch anyway. It started with a small group of Death Eaters standing in front of a medium sized house located out in the country—practically in the middle of nowhere. "He'll be here soon," Harry heard the all too familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy state. "But the Dark Lord wants us to start it for him." The other Death Eaters sniggered in glee. Harry felt like he was going to be sick.

The small band walked towards the front door, proceeding to unlock it. "Bella, you go in first. We'll stand guard out here." Harry saw one of the hooded figures opening the door and sneaking in. The image followed behind them. Harry wanted to turn away but found that he can't.

"Stay here with Neville, Alice. I'll go see what it is," came a voice from the other room. Evil grins crossed the Lestranges' faces. Harry looked up to see a tall man in front of them—fit, but rather pudgy. He had dark hair just like Neville, with almost identical facial features. A look of fear crossed his face, but that fear was quickly replaced by a look of hatred. "Ah, the Lestranges…should have guessed at this late of an hour."

"You know why we're here, Longbottom," Bella sneered.

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Frank Longbottom said quite politely. "Would you please enlighten me?"

Bellatrix's husband shot forward and grabbed the front of Frank's robes. "No! You know why we're here," Bella hissed in her husband's ear as she quickly pulled her husband away. "Now tell us where the Potters are!"

"I have no idea."

"Tell the truth, Longbottom, if you know what's best for you and your family!"

"I'm telling the truth. Do you think they would hide just anywhere and tell just anyone? Besides, why would you want to know?"

"The Dark Lord has important business with Lily and James Potter. Actually, he has important business with their son, Harry. Now tell us where they're hiding!"

For one fleeting moment Harry saw fear cross Frank's eyes before he again replied calmly. "I do not know where the Potters are. Even if I did, there is no way that I would tell you."

Bellatrix screamed and flung herself at Frank, wand at the ready. "_Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!_" she screamed as Frank huddled on the floor, shrieking in pain.

"Frank, dear, what's the ma—?" Alice Longbottom began to ask, coming in from the other room. She gasped at the scene in front of her, her husband twitching on the floor and Bellatrix Lestrange towering over him, wand outstretched. Before Neville's mother could reach her wand, Bella's husband was on her, his own deep, booming voice yelling, "_Crucio!_" in unison with his wife's. She fell onto the floor as well, her face stunned and shrieking horribly as her small body shuddered with pain…

The image faded and Harry found himself looking at Voldemort and Bella, the substance disappearing into midair. "_Erindring_," Voldemort said quietly, "one of the most powerful methods in the world to relive memories."

"Thank you, Master," Bella mumbled, still on her knees and again kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. "Thank you…"

"I will not allow such pleasures next time, Bella," Voldemort replied softly. "I expect results from you whenever I assign a task for you to complete."

"I promise I'll do better next time, My Lord."

"For your sake you had better…you know the punishment for the failure of your task."

"Yes, My Lord. You have my word that it will be done."

Harry awoke with a start in the all-too-familiar cold sweat that he has whenever having a nightmare about Voldemort. He got up and checked his watch to find that it was 2:30 in the morning. Harry jumped out of bed and walked over to the basin of water on the windowsill to splash his face, looking across the snow from his window at the Burrow (he slept in Fred and George's room, as they had moved out after starting Weasley's Wizard Wheezes). He would have loved to tell himself that it was all a dream and that he could go back to sleep, but life was never that simple for Harry Potter. In the back of his mind he knew that it had actually happened. It was too vivid just to be a dream. His scar had long lost the sharp pain that shot through it whenever Voldemort was near or rather emotional at the time. Still, it throbbed slightly and Harry couldn't just ignore it.

Harry put on his bathrobe and slippers and walked downstairs. He sat at the kitchen table just _thinking_.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Harry looked up to see Ginny standing at the foot of the stairs. "Sorry if I woke you," Harry muttered, looking back down at the table.

"No, it wasn't you, I couldn't sleep either. When I heard you go down the stairs I thought I'd join you. Want some cocoa?" Before Harry could say anything, Ginny had water on the stove. "I wish I could do magic outside of school," she muttered. "It would make life a heck of a lot easier…"

Harry chuckled slightly. "Now you know how Muggles have to live."

Ginny shook her head. "The poor souls…" Harry laughed halfheartedly when he realized the striking similarities between Ginny and her mother. He found it quite comforting. "Now tell me what's on your mind, Harry. I can tell something big is bothering you." Ginny mixed up some hot cocoa into two rather large mugs and brought them over to the table, sitting down next to Harry.

"What do _you_ think would be bothering me?" Harry asked in an angrier tone than he had anticipated.

"Voldemort," Ginny replied calmly, taking a sip out of her mug.

"Bingo. What else is Harry Potter _allowed_ to think about, especially nowadays?"

Ginny put a comforting hand on his arm. "Listen, Harry, I've known you ever since you and Ron became friends first year." Harry smirked. "Shut up. You know what I mean. Anyway, I've gotten to know you fairly well and have discovered only one thing about you: you're just like your parents."

At this Harry looked down into his mug of cocoa.

Ginny continued, not waiting for a response. "And knowing that you are just like them gives me confidence that you _will_ defeat Voldemort in the end."

"How can you be so sure? There's no way I could be as brave as Dad."

"Harry, you're the only one who has the ability kill the Dark Lord. You heard the prophecy. Not even wizards as powerful as Dumbledore can defeat him once and for all. And Harry, I know you can do it because…well, you're _you_." She smiled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, half grinning and half utterly confused.

"It means that you have survived Voldemort's wrath and have slipped out of his grasp more than once and if that isn't an indication that you'll be successful in finishing him off, I honestly don't know what is."

The two sat in a peaceful silence for fifteen more minutes before Ginny got up and put her mug in the sink, yawning. "Well, that sure helped me; I hope it did the same for you, Harry." With that she kissed him lightly on the cheek in an affectionate sisterly sort of manner. Harry again was reminded of Mrs. Weasley. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Ginny." And with that she climbed the stairs and left Harry with his own thoughts. Never before had he wanted to own a Pensieve so badly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, OK, I've been crazy busy with absolutely no time to write lately…as in _quite_ a long time lately. In fact, I'm not even sure when the last update was…that could be a sign, eh? Anywho, my random genius came up with the idea of _Erindring_ as I was having fun translating English words to random foreign languages on the Internet…and I believe it means "recollection" or something of the sort in an unknown tongue (in other words, I forgot what language--shows how long ago I started this chapter). Oh, and also, does anyone know the name of Bella's husband? I got sick of calling him "Bella's husband" all the time and can't remember if he actually had a first name in the books or not. So if anyone can help me out there, it would be greatly appreciated.


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